Spellless in Seattle
by Cid62
Summary: Sequel to Dark Redemption AND Date with an Executioner. Trilogy Now Complete! Rowan Hawthorne, under an assumed name, contemplates returning to the Wizarding World. Has Severus waited for her or moved on? NOTE: This story will be removed VERY soon. The updated version will be available in the next few months...and it will NOT be an AU, either!
1. Chapter 1 It's Always a Dark and Stormy

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one.  
  
This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation. (I don't know about you all, but I'm getting a bit impatient!) This first chapter might be a bit confusing at the beginning, but you'll figure it out. I am not sure how long this one will be, but it probably won't be as long as the first two stories. Let me know what you think!  
  
  
  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 1 - It's Always a Dark and Stormy Night  
  
June 30th, 1999, Seattle, Washington, USA  
  
I pulled out of the parking garage at around 8 pm. The project was finally over, all the coding done, everything shipped, no more QA, no more endless meetings. The Volvo's headlights revealed wet streets, which was very normal for my adopted city. I punched in some numbers on my cell phone and Maria picked up on the first ring.  
  
"How's he doing?" I said, after we had exchanged pleasantries. I used my private school Spanish; she pretended not to understand me. We were friends, even though I paid her a handsome salary to clean my tiny house and baby-sit my son, who was nearly four, and very precocious. She was the only luxury that I allowed myself, other than the expensive (but safe-all the commercials said so) car.  
  
"OK, Mrs. R. He's looking kind of tired so he'll probably be going to sleep soon."  
  
"That's cool. Look, I'm going to go do some shopping. I'll see you in a couple of hours." I hung up. I felt the need to reward myself a bit. An espresso and a few mystery novels sounded good. Since the new software release efforts had begun about eight months ago, I had not done much reading for pleasure-other than the occasional hastily-read and even more hastily-discarded copies of "The Stranger" *  
  
In about a quarter of an hour, the massive chain bookstore loomed ahead of me out of the gloom. I truly hated shopping at these book emporia-they would, eventually, along with the online stores, probably put independent booksellers out of business. Although I had been out of the retail world for a few years now, I still sympathized with small shop owners everywhere. It was a curse-and I winced as I used that word mentally. No, it was a virus. Scientific-sounding terms were always better. I must not think bad thoughts, as X, the old LA punk band, once sang during the 80s.  
  
I parked the square, silver Swedish sedan, attempting not to think of the implications of the alliteration of that phrase, in the middle of a row of towering SUVs. Most were probably being driven exclusively on well-paved roads and parked next to manicured shrubs and chemically-enhanced lawns at night. Oh tempora, oh mores. I locked the car with the little electronic alarm device and tottered off toward the store on my medium-height heels. Corporate culture had dictated that I show up today for the final round of meetings in a suit, so I had.  
  
I observed myself in the mirrored store windows as I walked in. Reflected back was a mid-30s female corporate drone, medium height, with brown hair in a neat, chin-length bob from which no hair strayed out of place. (I actually did pay a fair sum of money to keep it looking that way, and did not consider that a luxury.) I was wearing wire-framed, oval glasses. I had a young-looking and very non-descript face, two and only two pearl stud earrings, a gold-colored Timex watch, and absolutely no jewelry with symbols or motifs of any kind. I was clad in a raincoat (although it was technically the summer, said coat was a year-round accessory here), the aforementioned boring shoes, a dark blue suit (which consisted of a skirt and blazer), and a silk blouse. Dangling from my hands were a Coach purse and my cell phone (iterations of which had mysteriously gotten smaller and more Star-Trek-like over the years).  
  
And underneath it all, if one were to look, one would find several tattoos (most acquired during the 1980s), and a few exotic piercings. If one were to push up my suit jacket sleeve and examine my left arm carefully with the edges of one's perception, one might find a magically glamoured and disguised skull-and-snake brand, courtesy of the former Tom Riddle. When it hurt, which it hadn't lately, I covered it with an Ace bandage, took a lot of Advil, and claimed it was an old sports injury. But I would not, not, absolutely NOT, think about any of that.  
  
I walked into the store. Stacks of the latest hardcover novels loomed before my eyes, and remainders forlornly lurked near them, as if hoping to be asked to join the team after years of waiting. I walked past them to the Mystery section. After a few minutes of browsing, I found a stack of likely prospects and lugged them over toward the coffee shop. But the abundant coffee that I had drunk that day at work suddenly took its toll, so I found myself handing the books to the sullen, blue-haired barista for safekeeping and running toward the ladies' room.  
  
When I emerged, I found myself near the children's section, so I thought I'd see if maybe I could find a little literary gift to bring home to Eddie (short for Edward Andrew). He loved books and reading even at his relatively young age. This thrilled me and thus I took every opportunity to encourage it-which usually meant that I sent Maria off with loads of cash to buy the latest kidlit offerings. I loved children's books, even though I hadn't shopped for them in ages. Maybe I'd even buy him some of my old favorites, like Charlotte's Web and the Narnia books--  
  
And then I saw it. There was a huge cardboard display of what seemed to be two different titles, and there were-there were..no, there couldn't be, but there were...merchandising shelves next to it, and they had----  
  
I walked slowly toward the merchandising display. As it was late, and a weeknight, there were no children in the section. I was glad of this, because they might have wondered why the lady in the business suit had dropped her purse and cell phone on the floor and started to cry. And if their parents were around, they would have definitely called security at the sight of a grown woman, seated on the floor, clutching a holographic mouse pad from which an animated sneering professor/wizard glared.** Said wizard was looming over a small boy with messy black hair, glasses, and a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, who was mixing a gloppy green mess in a cauldron.  
  
When I finally pulled myself together and made it back to the barista, I had a stack consisting of both Harry Potter books (although I was unsure what, exactly "The Sorcerer's Stone" could possibly be), the aforementioned mouse pad (turned over so I wouldn't have to see the picture), and a stuffed three-headed dog (which I was certain that Eddie would enjoy). The blue-haired kid actually smiled at me when I sat the items next to the stack of mysteries and ordered a mocha.  
  
"You like Harry Potter?" he asked.  
  
I was never actually introduced to him, I started to say, but thought better of it. "Uh. These are for my son," I said. "Have you read them?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Bunches of times. They're great. The second one just came out, and the third one's coming out later this year, you know. It's already out in England. I read about it on a Web site." He expertly manipulated the espresso machine. As the steam hooted, I smiled. Seattle was one of the most wired communities in the U.S. "It's called Prisoner of Azkaban," he continued. "Lady, are you all right?" he added a few minutes later, when I didn't reply to him. "Excuse me, lady?"  
  
"Oh. I'm-I'm sorry," I said. "I've been working really long hours and I guess I sort of drifted off there for a moment. You didn't just say, um, Azkaban, did you?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the new Harry Potter book," he said, "Coming out later this year. Do you work at MegaSoft?" he asked, as he handed me my mocha.  
  
"Why, yes I do. How did you know?" I said, accepting the beverage and handing him my credit card to pay for all the items. Look for MegaOffice Ver. 7.0, coming to your computer soon, I thought. Pay no attention to the blood, sweat and tears-the shrink wrap will protect you.  
  
"We get a lot of MegaSoft employees in here, and they all look just as whacked as you do. And most of them order mochas," he said, swiping my card through the reader. He waved an electronic wand over my purchases, flipping the mouse pad over as he did so. "Cool! Professor Snape! He's my favorite character in the books," he remarked, holding up the pad and examining the picture.  
  
Oh kid, if you only knew, I thought. Rather than asking him what he thought of, say, Lucius Malfoy, I considered the picture. Severus' nose looked squashed (it wasn't), and I had never seen him wear purple nail polish. Otherwise, it was a remarkably close likeness. "He looks kind of Gothic," I said. I heard the chattering noise that indicated that my credit card was approved and the purchases were being racked up on it.  
  
"I think he's a vampire or something, but my friend Eric says I'm full of shit-oh, sorry, lady," he said. I fervently hoped that my friend Erik was not tracking my credit card purchases. Come to think of it, why hadn't I been informed about these books? What in the hell was going on? And who was this prisoner of Azkaban? I knew of more than a few wizards who sure as hell belonged there.  
  
"Probably only part-vampire," I said, not able to resist.  
  
"You think?" he said, handing me the credit card slip to sign. I handed it back. He gave me the bag with my purchases. "Thank you, Mrs. Richards," he said. I was technically a single mom, but I didn't correct his mistake. My credit card (American Express, gold) read "Mary H. Richards." The "H" didn't stand for anything, sort of like President Truman's middle initial. I had come up with the name on the spot when Erik asked me if I had a preference, as I had been a big fan of the Mary Tyler Moore TV show in my youth and I kind of liked the irony of that, plus it used my actual initials.  
  
My real name, of course, was Rowan Hawthorne Macnair. I liked to think that the "S" at the end of Richards stood for "Snape," but I hadn't revealed that detail to Erik. I wondered what the blue-haired barista would think of that. In the parking lot, I noted, in my PalmPilot, to visit this particular bookstore when the new book came out.  
  
  
  
On the way home, I called my boss and told him I wouldn't be coming in the next day, as Edward (his real name was Evan Allister, as you've probably figured out by now) was ill. As I never took time off, I hoped this wouldn't be a problem.  
  
What I was really going to do, of course, was read those damn books. And I did, all night long, stopping only to take the occasional bathroom break and comfort Eddie when I heard him crying because of a nightmare. I had my suspicions that the nightmares and my reading might have been related, but I let this thought pass. By the time of my second perusal of "Chamber of Secrets," I knew that I'd have to visit Vancouver Island that weekend.  
  
When I had activated the Auror's Portkey shortly after that horrible Samhain Revel in 1995, I had been instantly transported to NYAF Headquarters, specifically the Magical Witness Protection Program Office. Oddly enough, Erik happened to be there on an errand for his boss. He had not seemed surprised to see me, even though I had a baby wrapped in a tartan blanket in one arm and a Dark Mark on the other arm. That night, while various Program functionaries comforted young Evan Allister, fed him from bottles, and even sang him to sleep, Erik and I had formulated the details of my new life.  
  
As I said before, I had come up with my name, and the Program secretary who watched Evan had given him his new name (which I thought was boring, but so be it). A low-level job at a software company and a furnished apartment in a faraway city were provided, and multiple semi-permanent Appearance Charms were performed. After that, new identification (including a secured Muggle credit card and bank account) was created. The next afternoon (the Program offices actually contained sleeping quarters), Erik and I had completed a rather lengthy debriefing session, during which I told him everything I knew about Voldemort and his henchmen. I supplemented the interview with my Pensieve-one that I had bought through Inanna's store. The night before I left, in addition to making copious notes on everything I had heard at the Revels, I had also transferred most of my memories into it.  
  
To Erik's credit, he didn't make any judgmental comments (in my presence, at least). Then, finally, Auror Silverman attempted to mitigate and conceal the Dark Mark. He was not entirely successful-the damn thing burned almost constantly for a year-but we were, at least, reasonably confident that I couldn't be traced through it. I had, after all, not been initiated.  
  
Finally, I gave my wizarding gold and the bracelet that Walden had given me to Erik. He had the gold exchanged for dollars, which I eventually invested, and the bracelet was sent to the same NYAF high-security vault where my old Pensieve resided.  
  
Erik transported us personally to Seattle later the next day. We set up a location, on Vancouver Island, where he would send regular owl posts to keep me updated on wizarding world news. Rhiannon had been notified as to my whereabouts and put under a Fidelius Charm, and truly important news from my friends, covenmates, and others could be sent through her, if necessary.  
  
It was in this way that I learned about Severus' heroism. He had not returned to the Dark Lord's ranks. Instead, he had openly and tirelessly served to Dumbledore's alliance of Light wizards, the Order of the Phoenix. (I never did find out what his secret mission had been that summer.)  
  
And Voldemort and his Death Eaters had indeed attacked Hogwarts the week before Christmas, 1995. What they encountered was a school empty of all of the students and teachers-except for Severus, several Slytherin students (the sons and daughters of the Death Eaters), and two hundred Aurors, some who had been recruited from Europe as well as the American Order of the Eagle. Erik had been among them.  
  
Thus began the magical war between the Dark and the Light. After the battle at the Ministry of Magic offices in London that resulted in Minister Fudge's death, Severus had received an Order of Merlin, First Class from the new, extremely popular Minister, Arthur Weasley.  
  
What I didn't know, though, was the whereabouts of Walden and Lucius. I had the suspicion that the news sent to me had been edited. And I had no way of finding out, either, as the conditions of my acceptance of asylum through the Program included my complete isolation from the wizarding world. I was to maintain said isolation until Erik had determined, categorically, that Voldemort had been destroyed and peace had been attained. As of last year, this unfortunately had not yet happened, although from the reports I received, victory seemed close at hand.  
  
Frightened of the repercussions should I lose my asylum (as, of course, I had been the one to tip off Erik about the Hogwarts attack), I had not even attempted to contact anyone in the large Seattle Muggle Neo-Pagan community, although I saw evidence of their existence nearly every day.  
  
As I considered all this, I realized that I hadn't been to the owl post drop for nearly a year, since before the Version 7.0 project had started at work. And then, Edward had gotten the flu, and Maria's grandmother had gotten sick and she had taken two months' leave, causing me to have to employ a series of unsatisfactory au pairs. I tried my best to balance the demands of work and motherhood, so that one day Edward wouldn't turn dysfunctional, form a band and cover the old 70s tune "Cat's in the Cradle." *** So I had let my only source of wizarding news turn stale. For all I knew, Erik might have sent me copies of the books already.  
  
  
  
"Mommy, are we there yet?" Evan had taken remarkably well to his "new" name- he insisted, in fact, that I use it as much as I could. I wondered if he thought it was some kind of game. I had decided to give him his real name back, as the release of the books seemed to indicate that things had changed in the wizarding world. Maria had not been surprised when I informed her of the name change, either. I had my suspicions that she might have a bit of psychic ability. I had also told her, in secret, that Evan's father had not been a very nice man (I grimaced as I remembered exactly how not nice he was), and that I was not planning to reveal any more about him until I was ready.  
  
"No, Evan, we're not-but we'll get there real soon now," I replied, and was rewarded with a large smile. Evan looked an awful lot like his father-the same black hair, same blue eyes. He was also, according to the pediatrician, large for his age. And this morning, while he had been putting on his sweater, its color had changed from orange (which he hated, but it had been on sale) to a shade of green that I had hoped I would never see again. I stepped on the gas. That fucking island couldn't get there fast enough for me.  
  
"Cooooooooool!" he exclaimed, as he heard the turbocharged engine rev. He had the stuffed three-headed dog clutched tightly in his arms. I had learned that its name was Fluffy, and that it had been one of Hagrid's pets; thus, it was only logical that Evan would treasure it. In fact, I thought, it had almost seemed as if he recognized it when I handed it to him. I had stuffed the mouse pad into the back of my filing cabinet.  
  
As the events of the first Harry Potter book had occurred in 1991 and early 1992, which was before I had met Severus, I hadn't been completely aware of all of them. I did remember him mentioning something about the doomed Professor Quirrell once, come to think of it. As far as the second book had been concerned, I had a lot of trouble reading it, because I remembered that year all too clearly, of course-it was the year I had met and fallen in love with Severus. And as for the upcoming third book, I was dreading it. Hagrid (and he was depicted quite accurately, in fact) was an integral character in the books, and I was almost positive that the hippogriff incident would be in the new one.  
  
How on earth had these books come to be written? It had to have something to do with Minister Arthur Weasley. I had heard many rants, from both Lucius and Walden, concerning him and his predilection for Muggles.  
  
At last, after an interminable ferry ride, we drove to the remote location and made the short hike to the owl post drop area. To the Muggles, it looked like an abandoned shack. Evan had never been here with me. Nevertheless, he ran toward it as if it was his second home.  
  
"Mommy, is this our new house? Are we going to live here now?" he asked, excitedly. In addition to being an owl post drop, it was also a safe house. I reached in my pocket for the transfigured key (it looked like a crushed soda can) and opened the door. Evan ran in the minute I did, just as I was saying, "No, we're just visiting."  
  
"Mommy, there's a bird outside! A big bird!" yelled Evan. Indeed, a large, snowy owl fluttered there, in the process of dropping a package into the drop-slot built into the window. I opened up the sealed tin of owl treats and then opened the window. The owl flew in. "Here, give the bird these," I said to Evan, handing him some of the treats, as I untied the package from the owl's leg. It was suspiciously book-shaped. There was also a rather large pile of letters under the drop-slot, just as I had expected.  
  
The owl hooted at Evan, who giggled, and then it exited the window. Both of us watched as it flapped away. I then walked over and touched a hidden panel in the wall, from which a drawer protruded. In the drawer lay my wand. Within the walls of the safe house, and within reason, I was permitted to use magic, on a very limited basis.  
  
  
  
* "The Stranger" - Seattle's free "underground/alternative" paper. Every large American city has one.  
  
** Yep, I own one. It resides under my mouse even as I 'speak'.  
  
*** In said song, which was originally recorded by Harry Chapin in the 70s, the singer decries the fact that he essentially abrogated his fatherly duties in favor of success at work. In the last verse, his son is then too busy to see him. And Rowan definitely doesn't want her son to be a "chip off the old block," either. 


	2. Chapter 2 News of the Wyrd

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one. This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation.  
  
Thanks for reviewing, Veresna - I'm a big fan of your sexy Snapefics! Let me know if I get any Seattle details wrong, as I've never actually visited that fine city, just read about it and heard of it from friends.  
  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 2 - News of the Wyrd  
  
I slowly picked up my wand. "What's that, Mommy?" asked Evan, almost immediately.  
  
"It's my wand," I answered, absently, as I looked at it. 10 inches, rowan wood (what did you expect?), dragon heartstring. Severus had taken me to get it not long after I had begun seeing him. I had actually expected that Erik would confiscate it before he had transported us to Seattle, but he hadn't. He had told me that the Department of Magic trusted me. After all, I had dropped the dime on Voldemort, and I hadn't actually been one of his followers-I had just been married to two of them. Sigh.  
  
"What does it do?" asked Evan. He had been at the "question-a-minute" stage in his development since he had been able to speak. My take on child rearing was that I should be as honest as possible to him, within reason. Of course, prior to this afternoon, I had not exposed Evan to anything having to do with the wizarding world.  
  
"It does magick," I said. "Watch." And I levitated one of the rickety chairs that sat in the corner of the shack next to an equally rickety table. Then, I levitated the stack of mail off the floor and moved it over so that it sat on the table.  
  
Evan giggled. "Can I do that?" he asked. Oh kid, I am sure you can, and a lot more, I thought. Unfortunately, I had left all of the books I had purchased about raising wizarding children behind at Walden's lodge. I had been rather mad at him at the time because of the Voldemort incident on Samhain, and had hoped that seeing the books would make him equally mad.  
  
"Well, yes, when you get older and after you learn how," I said. There was to be no going back now, I thought. I sat the wand on the table, out of his reach. "Would you like to see a picture of-of your dad?" I asked. He had asked me about his father for the first time last year, when he had been exposed to other children at an afternoon play group. I had told him that we were divorced (unfortunately, this was a lie), and that he lived in Scotland (the truth, of course).  
  
"Yes," he said, looking up at me soberly. He bit his lip just as Walden had, I thought. I turned back to the compartment in the wall, and withdrew a small box from it. I sat the box on the table and tapped it with my wand. It grew larger. I opened the top of the box. Evan watched all of this silently.  
  
I pulled out a framed wizard photo of Walden and handed it to Evan. In the picture, Walden was holding the bridle of one of his horses (Salazar) and standing next to his barn. I had taken it about a week or so after I had moved to his lodge, when I had been happy, although magically manipulated.  
  
"Mommy, he's moving! And the horse is moving!" I looked at the picture and sucked in my breath. As we watched, Salazar tossed his head, and Walden fed a sugar cube to the stallion. Then, Walden turned toward us and nodded and smiled. I had forgotten how good-looking he was. Oh Gods. I had been working far too hard and far too long. And, although it wasn't specifically prohibited by the terms of my "exile", I had decided that I would remain single and celibate. I was seriously reconsidering that choice at the moment. Too bad that the men at MegaSoft were all either married, gay, hopelessly wimpy, or too young for me. There was not a chance in hell that any of them could stand up to the memory of Walden-or Severus, for that matter. (And let's not forget Lucius, my mind added, although I had certainly attempted to.)  
  
"The man smiled at me, Mommy!" exclaimed Evan, whose eyes were glued to the picture.  
  
"That's your dad, Evan," I said, feeling as if perhaps this outing hadn't been such a good idea. Especially since, dammit, that Azkaban book was going to be coming out soon. Well, I'd worry about that when I had to.  
  
"What's his name?" he asked. I told him. "Is that going to be my last name, now, too?" he asked. I explained that we used my name now, as Walden and I were divorced. (We weren't, of course, as far as I knew, unless he had done something about it.) "Do you have a new name, like my new name?" he asked, after musing that one over for a bit.  
  
"Evan isn't your new name, it's your real name. And yes, I have one, too," I said, and I told him what it was.  
  
"It's pretty, Mommy!" he said, and then asked, "Why are you and my dad not together any more?"  
  
"Well, Evan, sit down for a minute," I said. He walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. I sat next to him, paying no attention to the abundant layers of dust that covered the furniture. Then I picked up my wand and conjured two glasses of lemonade. "You see, your dad had some ideas about the way the world works that were wrong. And he did some bad things because of those ideas. Do you understand?" And the Goddess help me, I thought, when he actually finds out the specifics.  
  
"Like the bad guys in 'Star Wars'?" he asked. Out of the mouths of babes, is that what the expression was, I thought. I had passed my love and enjoyment of science fiction movies on to Evan. He especially liked the robots C3PO and R2D2.  
  
"Yes, just like the bad guys in 'Star Wars.'" I said. Evil hooded overlord, check, I thought. Slavish follower who eventually redeemed himself, check. Young kid who saves the galaxy, check. Joseph Campbell, please pick up the courtesy phone in the lobby.  
  
"What did my dad do?" he asked.  
  
"Evan, ask me that again someday, and I'll tell you," I said. This had worked before, and I hoped it worked again.  
  
"OK," he said. "Can we go outside?" I glanced out the window. Black clouds were looming. "Well, you can, until it rains, but then you have to come in." I went out with him and cast a protective circle around the perimeter of the area. "Don't go any farther than that tree," and I pointed. "I'll leave the door open. Do you have to use the potty?"  
  
"No," he said, and ran outside. He loved the outdoors and was very active, just as I imagined Walden must have been as a child. I watched him as he ran happily through the grass for a moment, and then I turned my attention to the pile of mail.  
  
There were two book-shaped packages, both from Erik. He used his own name, and my name, as the shack was considered secure. He had also sent three more letters. There were four large packets that contained copies of the Salem Enchanter, sent by Rhiannon. And then, there was another letter, that had obviously come through the Relay Service, addressed to me in care of Erik at the NYAF, and he had then obviously forwarded it.  
  
It was from Severus.  
  
I opened the two packages first. As I had suspected, they contained the first and second Harry Potter books (the British editions-I noted that the first book was titled "HP & the Philosopher's Stone," which made a lot more sense to me.). A letter, dated the previous fall (right around the time when I had started the Version 7.0 project, I noted), accompanied the first book.  
  
  
  
Dear Rowan,  
  
Since you have a kid, I figured I'd better send this book to you right away. You'll probably be hearing about it soon enough.  
  
Anyway, last week, I saw Rhiannon, Inanna, Michele, Bryan, and one of Bryan's friends at the Institute. Bryan's friend, Charlie, is the son of Minister Weasley, and he told me that his dad had come up with this nutty idea to help with the defeat of Voldemort.  
  
Basically, the idea is to make the Muggles aware of the wizarding world. That way, we can essentially "hide in plain sight." But, if any Muggles happen to figure out that it's real, they'll already know that Voldemort and his crew are obviously the bad guys, and maybe they'll help us kick their worthless asses. (I've already given copies of the book to some of my buddies at the NYPD, so I'm doing my part.)  
  
One of the Hogwarts teachers wrote out the ideas for the books (there are going to be seven of them, one for each year the Potter kid went to school-he finished up earlier this year). Then, she gave the outline to a distant Muggle cousin of hers-a young single mother who was hanging out in a coffee shop. (I thought you'd like that, because I know you guys in Seattle drink coffee all the time!)  
  
So, then, this teacher did a very limited and specialized Memory Charm on the Muggle woman, so she'd think that the books were all her idea. Well, the Muggle wrote the book, and sold it to a publisher, and what do you know, it hits the top of the bestseller charts over in England, and now it's being published here. I think maybe that some of those Ministry wizards had something to do with a lot of that, but the book is pretty damn good, really. And I'll send you the next one when I get it.  
  
Be warned, the Count is in it!  
  
Blessings of the Ancestors, from your pal, Erik  
  
  
  
I smiled at his mention of Severus at the end of the letter. After having fought at his side in the Battle of Hogwarts (and yes, that is really what it was called, at least according to the papers), Erik actually had a large amount of respect for Severus.  
  
The other letters from Erik detailed how things were going in New York, and a bit about conditions in England. The last one was dated June 15th, and the package that the owl had dropped today contained the second book and no note. His June 15th letter stated that the war had just about come to an end (it had been composed primarily of terrorist actions and guerrilla tactics for the last two years or so). Hogwarts would open for its fall semester this year, the Ministry was being rebuilt, and some of the Death Eaters were going on trial soon, but would surely be sent to Azkaban (which still existed, but now had human guards) within the month. No names were given. Voldemort was still at large, unfortunately, but Aurors were hot on his trail (but supposedly they had been for at least a year).  
  
I picked up Severus' letter. The copies of the Salem Enchanter could wait-that paper had not changed much since the 1600s.  
  
The letter was dated June 20th. It wasn't the first one he had ever sent- not long after he received the Order of Merlin he had written a detailed letter telling me about the battle and its aftermath, complete with pithy comments, and from time to time he sent short notes inquiring about my health and that of Evan. I knew that his duties kept him busy, but I had always written back to him, detailing my life, not that there was much to tell.  
  
  
  
Dear Rowan,  
  
Last week Albus called me into his office and offered me the post of Headmaster. Apparently, he has seen fit to retire at the end of the year and felt that I was the best wizard for the job. I felt, in turn, that it was my duty to inform him that he had most certainly lost any remaining sense that he might have had left after his duel with Voldemort last year.  
  
I then checked him to ensure that he was not, in fact, Voldemort, under Polyjuice (as the Ministry still are not aware of the Dark Lord's whereabouts), but he simply laughed, and said, "Dear boy, I would have become concerned for you if you had immediately accepted the post. Rest assured that I will always be available for consultation."  
  
I suggested Minerva, Filius, and even (Mithras save me) Julius Spence (this year's feckless Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who makes Lockhart look like a professional), for the post, in my place, but Albus was not to be denied-apparently none of them (except Spence) want the post, and who can blame them?  
  
Therefore, this fall term, I will hand my House Headship over to Sylvia (Sinistra, the Astronomy professor, who had also been a Slytherin) and ascend the stairs to that round office each morning. The first thing I plan to do is conjure up some heavyweight curtains-the amount of light that comes into the office is enough to give me a constant headache.  
  
I also should inform you, before you hear it elsewhere, of three things.  
  
First, I have been, over the past few months, spending time in the company of one of my former students, who I shall not name here. She and I worked together in the Order, as she was an Arithmancy prodigy. However, I have recently ended our association, as I felt that I was not able to give her the attention she deserved; we had little in common. Nor was she amenable to the sort of relationship that I am looking for. She is now seeing Potter, and I believe that is best for all concerned.  
  
Secondly, by now, I would imagine that the Auror has already informed you about the Muggle books. I have read them, and I dare say that Arthur Weasley's hare-brained scheme might actually stand some chance at working. Furthermore, I imagine the new crop of students will be relieved that I am no longer teaching.  
  
Third, I enclose the attached clipping from the Prophet for your perusal. Gundarsson told me that he categorically refused to ever give you any news about these two particular wizards. I do not agree with him. Make of this information what you will.  
  
I would like to close by asking you if you think it would be possible if, at some time in the future, you might see fit to visit Scotland again?  
  
With fond regards, Severus  
  
  
  
I looked at the Prophet clipping. It wasn't very lengthy.  
  
DEATH EATERS ON THE STAND: TRIALS OF MALFOY AND MACNAIR TO BEGIN MONDAY, read the headline. There were two side-by-side pictures of them, each flanked by about twenty Aurors. The caption read, "Accused Death Eaters Walden Macnair and Lucius Malfoy, at their arraignment hearing on Wednesday. Mr Malfoy's family solicitor, who is representing both wizards, declined comment on their behalf." Neither of them had changed much. Both were wearing their long black robes, which seemed rather incriminating to me, but I didn't know much about how the wizarding justice system worked over there.  
  
"Mommy, is that my dad in that picture?" I jumped. I hadn't heard Evan come in. 


	3. Chapter 3 Epistolary

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one. This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation.  
  
Sorry it's taken so long for an update. The holidays and life intervened. Thanks for all of the kind reviews; please leave more, if you're so inclined. And happy New Year.  
  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 3 - Epistolary  
  
"Yes, Evan, that is your father," I sighed. I held one corner of the Prophet clipping, and Evan held onto the other corner and studied the pictures gravely. Walden was not smiling in this one. The Aurors that surrounded him were waving their wands menacingly in his direction, and he was glaring at them. His hands were crossed in front of him, clearly bound together by magic. Considering that he had worked for the Ministry, I thought I understood the Aurors' animosity and wariness.  
  
"What are those men doing?" asked Evan. Although it was a vague question, I knew what he meant.  
  
"They're guarding him, so that he doesn't get away," I answered, as I looked at Lucius. His usually immaculate hair was disheveled and dirty, his hands were bound in front of him, as well, and, as I watched, he shrugged his shoulders to displace one of the Aurors' hands.  
  
"Who is that other man, Mommy?" Evan continued, clearly noticing the direction of my gaze.  
  
"Well, that's Lucius Malfoy, a friend of your father's," I said. And that's all you ever need to know about him, kid, I thought. I hadn't even really wanted to say his name aloud-too many memories.  
  
"Did he do something bad, too?" Evan's questions were coming a mile a minute.  
  
"Yes, he did." And more than once, I added mentally, although I had enjoyed some of it at the time.  
  
"Is that letter from my dad?" Evan pointed to the parchment that lay on the table. He was just as observant as his father.  
  
"No. It's from an old friend of mine, Severus."  
  
"Was he a friend of my dad's, too?" asked Evan. I winced. Thank goodness Evan was staring out the window, so he couldn't see me. I followed his gaze. It was raining. I paused and took a sip of my lemonade, and handed Evan his glass, as I answered him. "No, but he knew him."  
  
Evan finished the contents of his glass quickly; he had a fine appetite, just like his father had. Then he looked up at me and asked the question I had been waiting to hear. "Can I meet my dad?" he asked.  
  
"Well, I'm not sure. Maybe someday," I said. That is, if he doesn't get the Dementor's Kiss, first, I thought.  
  
"Mommy, what's this book about?" He had moved on, and was holding up the first Harry Potter book. "Look, that looks like my doggy!" He pointed at the illustration of Fluffy on the cover.  
  
"That book is about a little boy who goes away to a special school, where he learns how to do magic," I explained.  
  
"Can I go to a school like that?" he asked. His eyes were wide with wonder-- he was excited by the idea of school, and had been for some time. I figured he had to have gotten that trait from my side of the family, considering the state of Walden's library as I recalled it. I paused for a moment.  
  
"You know what, son? I think you probably will."  
  
  
  
I conjured a sofa and put Evan on it for his nap (he hated it, but with a wand, it was easy) while I Composed a return letter to Severus. I decided that his candor merited a prompt reply.  
  
  
  
Dear Headmaster Snape,  
  
I had to address you that way--well, just because. And I actually do have some official Hogwarts business to conduct with you before I reply to the rest of your letter.  
  
Would you please find out for me if my son's name was put down for Hogwarts? I'm afraid I don't remember much from that time-his name is Evan Allister, and his birth date was October 15, 1995. Thank you in advance for this favor.  
  
I do think, by the way, that you'll make a marvelous Headmaster. My only advice to you is that you recall what you once told me--I believe on our first weekend together--that you were just as horribly behaved as most students in your day, perhaps worse. That should keep you sufficiently humble.  
  
As far as the comment concerning your former student, I'm not sure why you decided to tell me that. I can assure you that the news I get of the wizarding world is so bowdlerized and edited that it's a wonder I've managed to continue to believe in your actual existence, rather than becoming convinced that you're just a character in those books.  
  
And yes, I have read them, and I must say that a Gryffindor must have drafted them. By the way, what ever happened to Malfoy's son? He certainly doesn't come across well in the books at all. I hope that his apparent lack of personality wasn't a result of all those Memory Charms. I remember (ha, ha!) only too well how sparkling I became after they were used on me.  
  
I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but as you weren't supposed to send me that article, we are even, I guess. The main condition of my asylum under the Magical Witness Protection Program is that I remain apart from the wizarding world until Voldemort is pronounced dead. When that happens, and after Erik sends me the paperwork for my final release from the program, I will then be free to visit Scotland again.  
  
And let me tell you, things here are so dreadfully dull that it won't be a moment too soon.  
  
With fond regards, Rowan  
  
  
  
I packaged up the letter, wrapped it in plastic, and put it in the outgoing slot for its eventual owl pickup. Then I put away my wand and the pictures, woke Evan up, handed him the two books, and we walked together to the car.  
  
  
  
Over the next few months, Evan and I visited the safe house regularly-- usually every other week or so.  
  
Severus wrote back a prompt reply, telling me that Evan was indeed fated to receive his very own Hogwarts letter in about seven years or so--by which time, Severus remarked, he hoped that he would not have to dispatch it via the Relay Service.  
  
He also forwarded more Daily Prophet articles on the trial--Lucius' lawyer managed to delay proceedings until the end of the year. And it seemed that Draco Malfoy had gone missing. He had, before that, surprisingly enough, become an Auror and a valued member of the Order of the Phoenix. How Draco's disappearance was related to Lucius' trial I had no idea, but as I have said, I'm hardly a legal authority.  
  
Of Walden, Severus' only remark was a terse comment that his trial had been similarly delayed.  
  
Related to this, I suppose, he didn't give any further mention of his former student, with whom he had the romantic relationship. He might have thought I was angry with him, or perhaps jealous-I wasn't, of course; it would have been rather hypocritical of me to express either of those emotions, considering our history. I had actually been rather surprised when he had told me about his liaison at all, which was what I had meant in the letter.  
  
I wondered if his original mention of the relationship meant that perhaps he was still interested in me. I had long ago given up hopes of us ever having a future together, but his remarks rekindled that hope, vain as it might have been. Severus had never been very straightforward, though, and although I read and reread his letters, I was unable to discern any subtle nuances in them.  
  
Meanwhile, my job at MegaSoft plodded along-life there became a bit easier as the new release of MegaOffice gained popularity. In October, to celebrate Evan's fourth birthday, I decided to take a week off, and Maria, Evan and I traveled to Sausalito, California.  
  
One morning that week, while I was up early, wandering the streets in search of a cappuccino, I noticed a large display of the third Harry Potter book in a bookstore window. By that time, I had read all of the first book and nearly all of the second one to Evan, who loved them. I must admit that I slightly edited the descriptions of Severus, favorably, and of Lucius, unfavorably. His favorite character was Hagrid, which didn't surprise me.  
  
After I finally located coffee, I walked back and waited outside of the store until it opened. I called our hotel suite from my cell phone and asked Maria to keep Evan busy for a while, then I sat in the hotel lobby and quickly read through the book, using the chapter titles as a guide.  
  
Damn. Sure enough, Walden was mentioned. I sighed very loudly at his accurate description. "Tall and strapping"; he most certainly had been that, and still was, from the Prophet pictures I had seen. I recalled that the books' ghostwriter was a woman, a Hogwarts teacher-and that reminded me to ask Severus in my next letter who it was.  
  
It couldn't have been Minerva McGonagall, I mused-to me, she had always looked as if she had never had sex, although Severus had admitted in one of his letters that she and Dumbledore had been romantic partners for years. So she was doing better than I was--I certainly had no romantic options on the horizon.  
  
Heaving another sigh, I looked past the offending paragraph and continued to read. Now, Walden was, apparently, caressing his axe blade. This, too, was accurate, unfortunately-I had seen him do it at the last Revel we had attended. I groaned. Walden was a minor character in the book, but given his description, he had obviously made an impression on someone.  
  
The desk clerk, misinterpreting my noisemaking, walked over and asked if I needed assistance. When I told him no, he then noticed what I was reading, and insisted on engaging me in a conversation about the Harry Potter books, and only left when I pretended that I needed to find the ladies' room. I skimmed through the rest of the book with the stall door firmly locked in front of me.  
  
Albeit a minor character, as I mentioned, Walden's presence in the story was one of the linchpins on which the plot hung, I saw. Furthermore, hints were given as to his more sinister alliances-his friendship with Lucius Malfoy was even mentioned! And knowing his side of the hippogriff story put the whole thing in perspective-obviously, the escape of Sirius Black had foiled Lucius' plans. Given Black's integral position as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Lucius was doubly incriminated. I wondered if the release of the book was in any way motivated by Lucius' trial.  
  
To make matters worse, by now Evan could both read and write, so there was going to be no fooling him when we got to the pertinent sections in the book. I decided that we'd go to the safe house right away when our vacation was over.  
  
Unfortunately, though, the week I returned to work , a Y2K problem that had not been properly addressed in the initial releases of MegaOffice was discovered. This potentially embarrassing situation resulted in lots of overtime and weekend hours for me, and most of the other put-upon employees on our campus. Then, after that ordeal ended, Evan caught the flu at his weekday play group and had passed it on to Maria, me, and several of my co- workers. So by the time Evan and I finally made it back to Vancouver Island, it was early in February, on a cold, rainy miserable Saturday.  
  
I was still a bit muzzy-headed from the illness as I parked in front of the shack and let Evan out of the car. As I opened the door, a large Relay Service owl tapped impatiently at the window. It held a shoebox-sized parcel in its claws. I ran over and opened the window as soon as the door unstuck and allowed me in.  
  
The owl shook the water from its feathers as I untied the box, and then it climbed onto Evan's outstretched arm and hooted happily at him as he fed it owl treats. Evan was a natural with animals, just like his father, although I fervently hoped that he wouldn't choose exactly the same profession.  
  
The return address of the box was New York City. I ripped open the brown paper and lifted the lid of the box. A postcard, depicting the Statue of Liberty, lay on top of a New York Yankees baseball cap. The cap was wrapped in what I recognized as touch-resistant material-hence, it was a Portkey.  
  
I turned the card over slowly. The message was very short and to the point.  
  
Rowan,  
  
The bastard's finally gone for good. It's time to come home.  
  
Your pal, Erik 


	4. Chapter 4 The Order of the Phoenix

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one. This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation.  
  
I couldn't help but title this chapter after Book 5, which will be out on June 21, 2003. I plan to be at my local bookstore at midnight!  
  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 4 - The Order of the Phoenix  
  
Although I was excited at the possibility of taking Evan to see his ancestral country (if not his actual ancestors), several cross-country Portkey trips were necessary before I could even consider a trip to Scotland. After all, I was a participant in a governmental program, and the government's penchant for bureaucracy was not limited to the Muggle world. There were myriad forms to fill out and interviews and debriefings to sit through. I was glad of Erik's presence and uncompromising friendship during those extremely boring months.  
  
I was able to read some back issues of The Daily Prophet while I sat in the halls and waiting rooms of NYAF headquarters between appointments, and that is how I found out how Voldemort had been defeated.  
  
It was a very dramatic tale, which was being presented in serial form, but the essential points were these. The Dark Lord's usage of the Roman calendar, rather than the Celtic one, had done him in. On New Year's Eve of 1999, Voldemort had been lured to an old stone circle outside of Newgrange, Ireland. (I smiled at that bit of information). He had not brought many minions with him, and the "why" of this was not explained in any of the articles I'd found, although it was clear to me from the sporadic news reports I'd been sent over the years that he didn't have many left at that point.  
  
Hermione Granger, the young, Muggle-born Arithmancy Professor at Hogwarts, had apparently devised the particulars of this expedition. Hmm. She had to be the "former student" that Severus had mentioned in his letter, I thought. There was a picture of her-she had a lot of curly brown hair and a huge smile, composed of perfect sparkling white teeth. Severus' dental health was probably a shock for her, I thought, snarkily.  
  
On the stroke of midnight, four members of the Order of the Phoenix, (all Hogwarts graduates, each from a different House), stood around the circle, formed a Celtic cross with beams of magickal light from their wands, and effectively imprisoned Voldemort where he stood. He tried to escape, but they cast a simultaneous "Avada Kedavra" on him, and he promptly exploded, sending a shower of sparks nearly a mile into the sky. (Remembering my horrific evening with him, I grinned hugely as I read this particular line.) Muggles observing this had their memories modified, so they remembered only a festive New Year's Eve fireworks exhibition. The only trace left of Voldemort was his wand, which was then snapped in two and destroyed by Mr. Ollivander from the Diagon Alley wand shop.  
  
The four graduates had been, in House order: Harry Potter (Gryffindor), Justin Finch-Fletchley, (Hufflepuff), Filius Flitwick (Ravenclaw), and-you guessed it-Severus Snape (Slytherin). Both Potter and Finch-Fletchley had joined the Aurors immediately after their graduation-both of them were handsome and outgoing, so there were lots of large, nearly glossy photos of them accompanying the articles. Finch-Fletchley resembled a young James Bond, and apparently, his debonair manner had prompted Witch Weekly to nominate him as their most eligible bachelor for several months running. Flitwick was featured in some of the photos, as well, and he was just as jolly as ever. Severus-not surprisingly--managed to appear as only a swirl of black cloak. Once, the back of his head was visible as he retreated from the frame.  
  
During those long hours of waiting, there was also my job to consider, although when I made a little side trip to Gringotts' New York branch and discovered how much my small fortune had appreciated (due, in part, to further successes of those aforementioned Information Processing wizards), I didn't consider it for very long. In fact, I put in my two months' notice shortly after my third trip to Program headquarters.  
  
Thankfully, during the transition period, Maria agreed to remain in my employ. I told her I had received a job offer from a firm in New York; she didn't ask me any questions, merely stayed with Evan and took up where I had left off reading the third Harry Potter book to him.  
  
One night, after a particularly lengthy and boring trip to New York, I arrived back home (via Portkey from Vancouver, and then via driving for the last leg). I was very tired and headed directly to bed, assuming (as it was after 9 pm) that Maria and Evan would already be asleep. I had just about drifted off when I heard a light tap on my door.  
  
It was Evan, and he asked to come in and sleep in my bed with me, as he was having nightmares. After fulfilling my motherly duties--asking him if he had brushed his teeth and had his nightly glass of water-I turned down the bed and he climbed in. Then he looked at me, biting his lip in that way that reminded me, disquietingly, of Walden.  
  
"Mommy, why did my dad try to kill Buckbeak?" he asked, without any preamble.  
  
Shit. Well, here, at last, was the question that I had been waiting for. Jeez, who said those were supposed to be children's books, anyway? I took a deep breath, and replied, "Well, Evan, it was his job to do that." Yeah, he was only following orders. Sigh.  
  
He mulled over my words for a while, and then nodded, apparently satisfied. Then he hugged me and said, "He wasn't nice, was he, Mommy?" I kissed the top of his head.  
  
"Well, he was nice some of the time," I said. "He cared about you." I remembered those brief weeks of familial interaction we'd had, and how gentle Walden had been with him. If only.but I had internally debated that with myself numerous times, and it was certainly pointless now. Evan would have gone straight to Junior Death Eater camp, or whatever Dark wizards did to educate their young.  
  
"I don't know if I'd like him, 'cause he kills animals!" replied Evan, his voice rising a little toward the end. I thought of my old Salem acquaintance, Moonwillow, and wondered what he'd think of this conversation. Karma at work, he'd probably say. Evan definitely wasn't getting his convictions from me-I was hardly an activist; I wasn't even a vegetarian.  
  
"Well, Evan, I didn't like that very much either," I said. "That's one of the reasons why I'm not with your dad anymore." Among other killings, I added mentally. Maybe, when Evan was old enough, I'd let Erik tell him about those. Or maybe Severus could tell him.  
  
  
  
About a week later, I drove to Evan's pre-school to speak with his teacher and settle my final bill there. The parking lot was filled with brand-new foreign cars and SUVs, and women dressed in the latest natural-fiber casual fashions, holding the hands of miniature versions of themselves, were streaming out of the building toward their vehicles.  
  
I wasn't going to miss the Muggle world a bit, I thought, as I observed them.  
  
Evan's teacher's office looked almost exactly like an upscale coffeehouse. I sat on the leather sofa, hoping that it had been a castoff from one of the students' families and not paid for by the exorbitant tuition fees. The teacher, who was dressed identically to the yuppie clone women in the parking lot, handed me a cup of chai, and we sipped our beverages and chatted about the weather (it was raining, big surprise) and about MegaSoft's newest release (which I fervently hoped I'd never have to see again).  
  
"Mrs. Richards," she began. I did a double take-I had been used to hearing "Miz Hawthorne" or worse, "Miz Macnair" over the last two weeks. (Unfortunately, Erik had discovered that Walden had not pursued a divorce, and had, in fact, been searching for me.but more about that later.)  
  
"Er, yes," I said, nodding at her to continue and setting down my teacup.  
  
"I think that we need to discuss Evan's issues concerning fantasy and reality," she said, patronizingly.  
  
"Do we?" I instantly jumped into Alpha Witch Bitch mode. Issues, my ass, I thought. Honey, you don't know jack about Evan's issues.  
  
She continued on, apparently used to bitches. "Evan has been telling his classmates that....well, that he..." She paused, took a breath, sat her teacup down, and dropped her head into her hands. Then she looked up at me. "Can I speak frankly to you?" she said.  
  
"Of course," I replied, still wary, but a bit more sympathetic of her.  
  
"Look. I only took this job so that I could help my husband with the payments on our vacation home," she said. "I don't even WANT all that stuff, but he just keeps spending and spending," she sighed. Then she told me his name; I recognized him as a MegaSoft middle manager, from another department. She sighed heavily. "I wish I had never married him. Oh, I shouldn't have told you any of this, you work there! But it doesn't matter- you're leaving, right?" She stared at me, pleadingly.  
  
"Yes, we're moving to Massachusetts," I said. And then, hopefully, Scotland, I thought, a part of it where nobody's even heard of MegaSoft.  
  
"Mrs. Richards, I really like Evan, and I'm going to miss him. He's a good boy, he's extremely smart, but..." She paused again and looked up at the ceiling. "This is going to sound so weird," she said. "But I almost believe what Evan's been saying."  
  
"Um, Mrs..." I glanced around for a nameplate. She clearly had retained her maiden name. "Ms. Carter," I said. "What, exactly, has Evan been saying?" Maybe she did know about Evan's issues after all, I thought.  
  
"Well-you know," she began. "I love those Harry Potter books. And apparently, so does Evan. A little too much. He told some of his classmates that he was going to Hogwarts, and he told me that his father was that horrible executioner from the latest book, the one who was going to kill Hagrid's pet, I forget his name...." her voice drifted off.  
  
I looked her straight in the eye and moved my hand toward my purse, very slowly, and withdrew my wand. "His name is Walden Macnair. And he was my husband. Well, still is, from what they tell me." As the teacher's eyes got wider and wider, I stood up, wand in hand. "And yeah, he is pretty horrible, I'd have to say." Well, at least he was horrible when I left, I thought.  
  
"What-what are you trying to do with that?" she said, indicating the wand. "You can't tell me those books are actually real-oh my God, you're as disturbed as Evan is!"  
  
"Keep your voice down," I said, as I mentally intoned the words to an old Institute spell, to keep her calm and influence her-very slightly-to believe what I was saying. "I'm not any more disturbed than you are, and neither is Evan. The books are real. Evan and I were living out here so that we'd be protected. I passed some information on about the Dark Lord to the Ministry of Magic. Evan's father was one of his supporters."  
  
"Really!" she exclaimed. "I knew it! It said in the book that he was an old friend of Draco Malfoy's father! I reread it after Evan told me that," she added.  
  
"Yes, they were friends. I knew Lucius Malfoy, too," I said. "But look. I can't let you remember any of this conversation." I leveled the wand at her.  
  
"Oh no! Just like-what was his name--Lockhart!" she exclaimed. "Please don't! I promise not to tell anyone. Look, is that Professor Lupin single?" she asked, with a smile. "And is he good-looking? And what about Sirius Black? And Professor Snape?" Her eyes were sparkling and I saw in them what she must have looked like as a child. "And have they killed him? You-Know-Who, I mean?"  
  
I nodded at her.  
  
"Is that why you're leaving?" I nodded again, in response.  
  
"Oh, all right," I sat back down. "Remus Lupin is quite good-looking, and he's a hero now," I said. "You know about his-well, you know, his condition. He worked for the Ministry as a spy." She nodded. "Sirius Black got cleared of his crimes after they captured Pettigrew, and he's an Auror," I said. "I just read about that." Lupin and Black were also members of the Order of the Phoenix.  
  
Her eyes held no comprehension. "What's an Auror?" she asked.  
  
"Like a cop. They'll probably talk about them more in the next book," I answered. "And, Sev--Professor Snape, I mean-well, he's...he's Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore retired. He was one of the wizards who killed the Dark Lord-Snape, that is."  
  
"Oh, I'm so glad," she said. "Every teacher has their moments, you know, when they want to be just like him," she chuckled. "Around here, the worst thing you could do to these kids is take away their gold cards," she finished, taking another sip of her tea. "How did you ever get mixed up with..well, you know?"  
  
"Long story," I said.  
  
"Did you know Professor Snape, too? You started to call him by his first name," she asked.  
  
"We're friends," I said. "He wrote me a letter last week," I added. Then I looked at her sadly. Under other circumstances, we might have become friends. "I really can't let you remember any of this," I added. "But give me your card. If things change, I'll have someone get in touch with you." I flicked my wand at her quickly. "Obliviate!" I said, and then quickly stashed the wand out of sight.  
  
The teacher's eyes glazed over slightly, and then she handed me her card, regaining her composure quickly. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Mrs. Richards. Evan is a wonderful child. So imaginative."  
  
"Oh, he is that," I said.  
  
  
  
The Realtor had just left with all the final paperwork for the sale of the house, and I was knee-deep in newspaper, wrapping up glasses and other assorted household items and packing them into boxes, all without magic, as Maria was due any minute. She would be dropping off some of the filled boxes at the local homeless shelter, and keeping some of the others. I didn't want to bring along any reminders of my Muggle life when I left. I was also donating all of my suits and other work clothes. Good riddance, I thought.  
  
I was also giving her my car, a gift that she had heartily protested, until I told her that even if she didn't take it, I planned to leave it in front of her house. Evan and I would be taking the Portkey directly to New York, and then Inanna would be picking us up from NYAF Headquarters, using Rhiannon's indestructible Volvo.  
  
At last, all the tearful farewells were said, and I presented Maria with a handsome bonus, which she also attempted to refuse, until Evan solemnly handed it to her, while saying that his Mommy wanted her to have it. This resulted in several more minutes of tearful farewells.  
  
Then Evan and I watched through the curtainless windows as the Volvo disappeared down the wet street.  
  
  
  
Evan was wide-eyed as we appeared on the dais, Erik in front of us, a big smile on his face.  
  
"Hey, slugger, welcome to the Big Apple!" he said, picking up Evan and swinging him around in the air. Evan giggled. He had met Erik several times over the past few months, and clearly adored him.  
  
The same secretary who had given Evan his Program alias stood next to Erik. "Hey, kid, why don't you come with me while your Mom talks to Erik?" She extended a hand and led him away down the hall. I thought I heard her say something about ice cream, and Evan's excited answer, as their voices grew quieter.  
  
"What's going on?" I asked, as Erik led me down the hall in the opposite direction, toward the conference rooms and offices that I had seen so many times over the past months.  
  
"You'll see," he answered, and winked.  
  
  
  
MINISTRY OF MAGIC COURTROOM ONE, LONDON, ENGLAND  
  
"Oyez, oyez!" announced the judge. The courtroom grew silent. The accused party was led in and seated, unceremoniously, on his bench. The jury filed in. The barristers shuffled their parchments and adjusted their robes.  
  
After the judge had indicated that the trial might begin, the barristers began their respective dog-and-pony shows. The jury looked bored-it was a nice spring afternoon outside, after all, and none of them really wanted to be here. Everyone knew what the outcome was likely to be.  
  
So nobody really noticed-including the second accused party-when the two huge doors at the rear of the courtroom opened and two people quietly walked in. One was a little boy with bright blue eyes and short black hair, dressed in a brand-new wizarding robe with a red tartan outer robe covering it, and the other was a short red-haired witch in a robe that looked about five years out of fashion. They sat quietly in the back and observed the proceedings for several minutes.  
  
But the boy was, after all, from Celtic stock on both sides, so he began to get fidgety as the barristers droned on. When his attention was drawn to the front of the room, he abruptly stood up, extricated himself from the red-haired witch's grasp, and ran up to the witness stand, too quickly for her to catch him.  
  
"Daddy, why did you try to kill Buckbeak?" he shouted.  
  
  
  
NOTES:  
  
I don't know much about British legal procedure, so I've sort of winged it a bit in this last part. If I've made any egregious errors, please let me know (via email) so I can fix them.  
  
And just for grins, on my LiveJournal, I've uploaded a (very small) picture of what the Macnair tartan looks like: http://www.livejournal.com/allpics.bml?user=cid62 


	5. Chapter 5 Disorder in the Court

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one. This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation.  
  
  
  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 5 - Disorder in the Court  
  
To say that Evan's statement caused pandemonium would be, well, an understatement.  
  
Everyone in the courtroom seemed to be yelling at once. The judge was pounding on his gavel and shouting "Order," but nobody was listening. Walden, who had obviously spotted me the minute I ran up behind Evan, was giving me a look I couldn't interpret-something between anger, surprise, and, I thought, even a bit of longing. After I met and held his gaze, he looked at Evan, who had somehow not budged from his place in front of the witness stand, and smiled. "Son," he began, but he was cut off by four very angry Aurors, who surrounded him, wands drawn.  
  
"You'll have a chance to talk when we give you one, Death Eater!" shouted one of them. The judge heard this exchange and pointed his gavel at the Auror. "Sir, you will sit down immediately! I will not have such behavior in my courtroom!" he shouted, angrily. "The rest of you, get out there and calm this lot down!" Then, frowning, he tapped his wand on his throat and magically amplified his voice. "SILENCE!"  
  
As the Aurors trooped around the room brandishing their wands like billy clubs, everyone slowly (and quietly) returned to their seats. Erik came up behind us and murmured, while chuckling, "Well, so much for the surprise witness shtick. Kid, I'm impressed," and he clapped Evan on the back and led him toward a seat that was a bit closer to the front. I followed them, but looked over my shoulder at Walden. He was giving Erik a hate stare unlike any I'd ever seen from him, even while he was in the midst of a killing frenzy at the Revels.  
  
The judge addressed the crowd. "If there are any more outbursts like that, I shall close these proceedings to the public!" He paused. "Barrister, you may continue," he concluded. The wizard who stood up and began pacing had to be Lucius' family attorney. His robes looked as if they were a thousand years old, and so did he. And his mannerisms and way of speaking simply screamed "Pureblood."  
  
"As you can now see, esteemed witches and wizards," and with this, he paced in front of the jury, "Mr. Macnair was made emotionally distraught due to the loss of his wife and infant son, a mere two weeks after the child was born. As far as he knew, they had been kidnapped by the Dark Lord and held in a secret location in order to force Mr. Macnair, a valued Ministry employee, to do He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's bidding. This situation resulted in a state of near-insanity, during which, I shall demonstrate to you, my client was not responsible for his actions and should not be held responsible for them." There was more, but you get the gist of it. During all of this, Walden was actually dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. It was the first time I had ever seen him do so.  
  
I can't believe this, I thought. "That is such utter bullshit!" I hissed, in Erik's ear. "When do I get a chance to get up there?"  
  
"Not soon enough," whispered Erik. "Did you bring the bracelet?"  
  
"Oh yeah," I said. "And the Pensieve." Erik and I had been preparing for the trial since the day I'd arrived in New York. He had told me, that day, that he had contacted the prosecuting attorney (they were called barristers there, really, but you get the idea) the minute that he was authorized to do so by the Magical Witness Protection Program higher-ups. The overworked Ministry employee, an overeager wizard by the name of Percy Weasley, had been only too glad to accept help for his case, which was being viewed, in the Daily Prophet, as a slam-dunk for Lucius and Walden's side. No doubt, Lucius was attempting to buy this way out of this conviction, as well-he had probably purchased a few sympathetic reporters, as well.  
  
Over the years, I had, of course, wondered if I would ever get a chance to testify against the two wizards who had disrupted both Severus' and my life. Now that it was actually happening, I felt a peculiar sense of unreality, as if the Wizarding World were merely words on paper. I know that this sense was because of the books, and I also wondered what American Muggle readers would think if they knew about this trial. Most would be cheering for the convictions of Lucius and Walden, but given how things tended to go when Lucius and his prodigious bankroll were involved, I imagine they'd be disappointed with the reality of the situation.  
  
I looked up from my fingernails, which I had been studying (they were short- made keyboarding easier) and tuned back in to the proceedings. The ancient barrister was calling a series of character witnesses to the stand to testify on Walden's behalf. There had been three so far, all Ministry employees. The current wizard on the stand, I recognized-he was the Ministry official who had performed our wedding. This fact was mentioned, and when it was, I looked over at Walden, who was, in turn, staring directly at me from his seat at the old barrister's table.  
  
I remembered the night we had met, and the Saturday nights after that, and the week we had spent together in Salem, and then, finally, the months after that when I had lived with him. Not all our time together had been bad, really-and I suddenly wondered where the hell that thought had come from. Perhaps that damned bracelet? It had caused more-well, actually just as much trouble as it was worth. I had thought that perhaps the charms on it had caused the jewelry store proprietor who had appraised it to overinflate its value, but that was not the case. After Auror Silverman had worked his magick upon it, he himself had taken it to the Jewelry District to get it reappraised. Apparently, the shop owner practically got on his knees and begged him to sell it, that very day. He finally had to Disapparate to escape the man, and then send in some Aurors to Obliviate him.  
  
The bracelet now resided in my purse, and I could practically feel the outline of the thing in there, as if it were some enchanted relic out of a Tolkien novel. Of course, it had been enchanted, but it was not supposed to be, anymore, so I certainly hoped that feeling was only my imagination. Although I wouldn't put anything past Walden, I considered. I looked up. He was still staring at me. I thought I almost saw him smile a bit. Crap, I thought. Isn't he over me yet? Surely, during all the years I had been gone, he had at least amused himself at the Revels with a regular partner (or two, or three, my mind added, to my dismay). And I didn't care about that, anyway, did I? I mean, the last week we had been together, he had put me through the sexual equivalent of an Unforgivable Curse.  
  
The room wasn't a bit cold, but I shuddered. I had been, over the years, taking medication on occasion to rid me of the feelings that lingered after Walden had taken me in that back room at the Revel that night to meet the Dark Lord. Let me up on that stand, you fossilized Pureblood asshole, I thought. Let me be a character witness and tell THAT story. Let's see Walden try to talk his way out of that one with the help of Lucius' Galleons and a goddamn moist hankie! Oh Gods, those red eyes..and that cold, cold flesh under those robes, and..Walden's excitement at seeing me with his Dark Master, kneeling at his feet, and then the both of them, sharing me. I shivered again and a small moan escaped my lips.  
  
"Yo! Are you all right?" whispered Erik.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Fine," I said. "I've got to go to the-"  
  
Erik stood up, took Evan's hand, and escorted both of us to the door. "I'll watch the kid. Are you OK going by yourself?"  
  
"Yup," I answered, and looked back at Erik, and I saw, over his shoulder, that Walden was watching us. Oh, hell, I thought, why not, and I reached up and gave Erik a big hug and kissed him on the cheek. To my surprise, he actually blushed. "Thanks again for everything," I said, adding a little extra oomph to my words (an old Institute charm) so that Walden would be able to hear them, too. Then I looked back at him.  
  
Walden was a large man, as I have said before. The intervening years had not changed this-he looked every bit as vigorous as he ever had been when I knew him. And every bit of that vigor was going into his hands, which were clenched into huge fists in his lap. As I stared at him, he bared his teeth.  
  
Not exactly the picture of innocence, are you, my dear? I thought, as I gave him a big smile and headed for the ladies' room.  
  
  
  
When I returned, the marriage celebrant had departed the scene in favor of a small, scared-looking man who, and unbelievably so, turned out to be another Ministry executioner by the name of Burton. A more unlikely wielder of the axe I had never seen; he looked for all the world like the head of the Accounting Department at MegaSoft. Nevertheless, he detailed how, of the official Ministry executions that he had performed with Walden, or seen Walden perform, all had been exceedingly swift, humane, and painless. Not if you happened to be a hippogriff or a manticore, though, he added, with a little gallows humor, and the courtroom erupted in laughter.  
  
As I didn't recall seeing the man (or any hippogriffs or manticores) at any of the Revels, I'd have to agree with him, I thought.  
  
Burton left. The barrister asked for a short break, and I saw him asking Walden a question, pointing to a parchment, and Walden nodded. After proceedings reconvened, up came another Ministry employee, this one a witch. It seemed she had been Walden's administrative assistant (although they had another title for her, of course, a more archaic-sounding one, which I don't recall now). I hadn't even known that he had a secretary, although I remembered how his letters to me when I was in Salem had been addressed in an unfamiliar hand, and I wondered if it had been hers.  
  
She described, in glowing tones, how Walden had been the ideal boss, buying her lunches when she was too busy at her desk to leave, giving her gifts on her birthdays and Christmas, and doing everything but parting the Red Sea and turning water into wine. (More like blood, I thought). As I listened to her recitations, I watched her face as she looked at Walden. The woman was quite clearly in love with him! I would not allow myself to get mad, I thought. Nevertheless, I did have a question--had she been on the scene when we were together?  
  
"And how long did you work at the Ministry for Mr. Macnair?" the barrister was asking, creakily. "Please give the exact dates."  
  
"Yes, sir," she said. Ugh, she was blonde, too. Dyed, from the looks of it-the hair-care potions in England had never been quite as good as the American ones. "I worked for Wal-, I mean, for Mr. Macnair from January of 1991 until, well, until he was asked to step down from his post last year." Her smile was wide (and full of bad teeth, I noticed, gleefully) as she said this.  
  
As the barrister told her thank you and asked another question, Walden turned around and looked at me with a glance of pure male satisfaction. Why, you son-of-a-bitch! I thought. All those Saturdays at the Ministry! "FUCK YOU!" I mouthed to him.  
  
He was mouthing something back, and I could almost hear it..AAAAUGH! I jumped from my seat. Erik and Evan started at my movements. I pushed my way past them back to the ladies room, again.  
  
"Hey, come back!" said Erik, towing Evan behind him. "What happened? Did that asshole say something to you? I saw him flapping his lips! What did he say, Rowan? Tell me, WHAT DID HE SAY?"  
  
I was crying at this point, large tears rolling down my face. I had been played by a fool by a Slytherin, screwed in more ways than one, in more ways than I had even figured out at the time. I didn't think I even cared anymore. Why did I care? Why had I EVER cared? I was going to pack my stuff and go the hell back to Salem and forget this trial ever happened. I had done my part to help in Voldemort's fall and they weren't getting any more help from me.  
  
Erik was behind me now, one hand on my shoulder, another hand gripping Evan's, simultaneously trying to calm both of us. It wasn't working. Evan was jumping up and down saying "Mommy!"  
  
"What did he say?" asked Erik.  
  
"He said.he said.' I did-the both of you'!" 


	6. Chapter 6 Chambers of Secrets

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one. This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation. And there are some surprises in this chapter for "Date" fans.as well as a little plot borrowed, in part, from an online RPG in which I participate.  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 6 - Chambers of Secrets  
  
"Rowan," said Erik. "Calm down. He's just trying to get a rise out of you!" I scowled at Erik's unfortunate word choice.  
  
"He's the one who got a rise!" I said. Then I remembered that Evan was still there and listening to everything. I looked at him. "Mommy, what's the matter?" he said.  
  
Just at that moment, the door to the courtroom burst open and the young Ministry barrister, Percy Weasley, came running out. His hair was standing on end and he looked as if he had aged fifteen years in the last fifteen minutes. "Mrs. Macnair-" he began.  
  
"Don't call me that!" I said. "Call me-oh shit, I'm not even sure what my name is any more." Then I clapped my hand over my mouth. Evan was going to have an entirely new vocabulary by the time the trial ended, I thought. I sighed. "Just call me Rowan," I said. Until I can figure something else out, I mentally added.  
  
"Er, Rowan," Weasley continued. "May I have a word with you?" I glanced at Erik. He nodded, and murmured to Evan, "Hey, kid, let's go and see if we can find some candy or something," as he put his arm on my son's shoulder and led him down the hall. I wasn't sure what sort of entertainment there was to be had at the Ministry offices, but I was certainly glad that Erik was there.  
  
"Rowan," Weasley began, managing to make it sound like an honorific.  
  
"Look, why don't you call me, er, Madam Hawthorne," I said. "I think you'd be more comfortable that way. And let's do so in court, as well, it'll piss off that fucking.." I let my voice trail off as I intoned the oh-so- appropriate profanity.  
  
"Madam Hawthorne," he began again, with visible relief. "I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must continue with us in these proceedings. All of us in the Wizarding World were affected by Lord Voldemort and his followers, to some extent or another." He cleared his throat and started to go on with his slightly pompous speech.  
  
"Oh, cut the crap," I said. "Who was it for you?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, smoothing down his ruffled hair, every inch the bureaucrat.  
  
"I said, who was it for you? Who did he kill-or worse?" I looked him straight in the eye. The Weasley family hadn't been mentioned much in the reports I had read of the war and subsequent terrorist actions. I supposed this was due to the influence of his father, the Minister. "I don't remember reading anything about-"  
  
"You wouldn't," he said. "It was my sister."  
  
"Ginny? The girl who-the diary and all?"  
  
"Yes," he said, looking at his shoes. "My father kept the news from the papers. He felt it would be an insult to her memory."  
  
"I think your father's the best," I said, with a smile. The descriptions of his character in the books didn't even come close to the reality of the extremely competent and very charismatic Minister of Magic. He did, however, actually own an extensive collection of Muggle electrical plugs.  
  
"He is," responded Weasley, with a very boyish smile. Then he looked at me. "What I'm about to tell you must remain confidential and cannot be brought into the trial proceedings. "  
  
"Er, yes, of course," I replied. With a quick glance up and down the hall, he led me toward a bench a short way from the courtroom door and cast a Silencing Charm around it.  
  
"You know about the diary incident-everyone knows now, because of the books," he began. I nodded in response. "Do you recall what happened to the diary after that incident?" I thought a bit. Weasley was so pedantic that I felt as if he were administering an exam, and I didn't want to fail.  
  
"Ummmm..lessee, Chamber, basilisk fang.." I muttered. "Sock. Elf. Malfoy! Lucius-I mean Malfoy got it back, didn't he?" I turned bright red. Perhaps Walden's little outburst was not the only reason I wanted to leave the trial, I suddenly realized. Perhaps I was more than a little ashamed at exactly how easily I had succumbed to the blond wizard's charms. Oh, hell. And if I were to continue giving testimony, everyone was going to know.  
  
"He did," Weasley said, as he looked at me curiously. "You didn't know about it when you were.ahem..when you were associated with Mr. Malfoy , did you?" I got even redder than I considered possible. I was sweating. He clearly already knew.  
  
"No!" I blurted. Can we just fucking get ON with this, I thought? I was now reliving, in my mind, every single encounter Lucius and I had ever had, and realizing that I was also more than a little hypocritical for running out of the courtroom after Walden's remark.  
  
"At any rate," continued Weasley, "Malfoy, after Lord Voldemort's return, and in conjunction with him, was somehow able to repair the damage that had been done to the diary. We do not know the exact details of how that operation was performed. Suffice it to say that they were able to reconstruct a 16-year-old Tom Riddle as a result of their conjurations."  
  
"That must have been weird for Voldemort," I mused. "To see a teenaged version of himself running around," I said.  
  
"That is irrelevant," snapped Weasley. "Riddle kidnapped my sister!"  
  
"What!" I yelped. "How did he."  
  
Weasley frowned. "Apparently, she still harbored, well, somewhat of an adolescent crush on him, and he used it to his advantage. She told this to one of her school friends, who later confessed it to Aurors after extensive questioning. After Fudge was killed, and after my father became Minister, Ginny disappeared one afternoon, while on a class trip to Hogsmeade."  
  
"They still let them go to Hogsmeade after-" I was surprised.  
  
"It was supposed to be a treat. They were extremely well-chaperoned. Aurors all round. It's still a mystery how they were able to do it." Weasley added, staring at his hands.  
  
"Oh, I think I can imagine," I said. "The usual Malfoy stuff. Bribery, lying, perhaps an Invisibility Cloak or two.But, wait," I asked. "How did they know it was Riddle?"  
  
"He made her send an owl to my father," said Weasley. "On the surface, it read as if she had wanted to go with him, but somehow, my father knew that wasn't the case. It was a blackmail attempt, and it didn't work. Ginny died trying to escape," he said. At this point, he was clearly trying to hold back tears. I reached into my purse (which was my indestructible Coach bag from my Muggle days) and handed him a tissue.  
  
"Thank you," he said. We sat there, awkwardly, for a short time after that.  
  
"So you see," he began, once he had regained his composure.  
  
"No need to say more," I interrupted. "Sorry for interrupting. Look, I'll go back in there now. I'm sorry for making you think I was going to leave, just because of a stupid remark from-well, from Macnair." I said.  
  
"I know that's not all he did, Madam Hawthorne," said Weasley. "I've spoken with Headmaster Snape. He will be here tomorrow to give his own testimony."  
  
"Severus? He's-" I hadn't heard much from Severus since Erik had recruited me for the trial. I had assumed he was busy with school matters.  
  
"Yes, he'll be here. The Aurors who searched Mr. Macnair's hunting lodge are also due to arrive any minute. Auror Gundarsson wanted me to tell you that you'd find their testimony to be of particular interest," continued Weasley, with a peculiar look on his face. He was almost smiling. "I motioned for a recess, and-" he lifted his pocket watch from his robes and glanced at it "-it's almost due to end. May I escort you back to the courtroom, Madam Hawthorne?"  
  
As we stood up, and I took his arm, I said, "Why didn't you get sorted into Slytherin?" He had, and very expertly, managed to get me to do exactly what he wanted. Of course, it was really what I wanted as well. Many of the best schemes were like that.  
  
"Because I asked the Hat to put me with the rest of my family," he answered, with a smirk.  
  
  
  
I took my seat. Walden turned around and looked at me oddly, but I refused to acknowledge him. After a prolonged stare, he eventually turned back around when his barrister tapped him on the shoulder. Ha, ha, I thought. Erik and Evan, the latter with a chocolate-smeared mouth, came back in right after that. While I wiped Evan off with yet another tissue (I bought them by the case), the judge brought the proceedings back to order. Apparently, nothing had happened after I left the room other than the departure of the horrid secretary.  
  
Due to scheduling issues, the two Aurors who Weasley had mentioned were called to the stand to give their testimony, even though they were, technically speaking, witnesses for the prosecution. However, Walden's barrister was permitted to question them first. I idly speculated on the differences between wizarding law and Muggle law. The language sounded the same, but there were a few procedural differences. No different, though, was the sheer amount of boredom generated by a trial. Unlike the lawyers portrayed on American Muggle TV shows, Walden's barrister was anything but handsome and exciting. Furthermore, I thought the wizard would never finish with his questioning. He barely allowed the Aurors (a man and a woman) to say anything, other than that they had found what they expected to find in a hunting lodge belonging to an executioner.  
  
I nudged Erik. "Hey, uh, no offense," I whispered, "but, like, I already know about his lodge, I lived there, if you don't remember."  
  
"Oh, you know more than you think you know," Erik whispered back, with a smile. Then, Evan tugged on my sleeve and asked if he could go to the bathroom. What in the hell was he talking about?  
  
"I'll take him," said Erik. "You don't want to miss this."  
  
"Could you bring me some coffee, as so far, this...stimulating...testimony is really not holding my interest," I said, sarcastically.  
  
Erik just snorted and smirked at me. "Sure."  
  
Finally, Weasley made his way to the front of the courtroom to give his cross-examination, except I supposed it wasn't really, as they were his witnesses, after all. Almost immediately, Walden's barrister, whose last name was Nott (and why that was familiar to me I didn't know) jumped up and began throwing objections all over the place.  
  
The judge had had enough. Magically amplifying his voice, he shouted, "Sit down, Mr. Nott, or I shall throw you out of my courtroom for obstruction of justice!" My ears rang after that.  
  
Weasley motioned to his assistant, who brought forward a large box and a small folding table. The contents of the box turned out to be a Pensieve and an oblong black stone pedestal upon which the bowl rested. The judge explained to everyone in the courtroom that this was a display device that would permit everyone to view the contents of the Pensieve, developed by the Ministry's Committee on Experimental Charms.  
  
Within minutes, all eyes were riveted on the wall to the right of the witness stand. Erik walked in just as the show was starting, holding the hand of a very tired-looking Evan, as well as a welcome mug of tea for me.  
  
After he sat down, we watched as the two Aurors Apparated in front of the lodge. To me, of course, this was a very familiar sight. They walked around the grounds a bit and toured the barn, assisted by the house-elves. Then, they entered the lodge proper and searched the upstairs rooms first. I smiled and nudged Erik as they went through the upstairs library-they commented on the shelf full of books on childrearing. "I left those there," I whispered. "He never moved them!"  
  
In the bedroom, down the hall, I was surprised to see that my old wardrobe still stood there, door ajar and empty of any contents, almost exactly as I had left it. In fact, the whole place looked the same as I remembered it. "Do you know how long ago they did this search?" I asked Erik.  
  
"Last month, I think," he said. "Yeah, that's what I heard, I'm sure." The house wasn't dirty, of course, but I did observe some of Walden's clothes on the floor. Perhaps his elves meant to show that they were rebelling a bit. He actually had treated them rather well, considering.  
  
Then, they walked into the room that Walden and I had prepared for Evan. "That was your room," I said to him. It was actually rather nice. There was a realistic-looking dragon painted on the wall. He nodded and looked sleepy. So far, I wasn't exactly sure why Erik had thought I needed to see any of this. As Evan leaned his head against me and began to doze, my attention began to wander. The tea, delicious as it was, wasn't helping to keep me awake. I watched as the Aurors went through every room in the lodge, including the elves' quarters. Finally, they proceeded down the stairs to the trophy room.  
  
I woke up a bit for that. I remembered the night after the trip to Salem when Walden had brought me to that same room. I had expected to see the horrible scenario of my Pensieve memories, and it, of course, had not materialized. The Aurors were presently examining the chess set and making comments about the sizes of the pawns' claymores. I chuckled, remembering more than one game that I had lost to Walden during that long summer when I had been pregnant with Evan.  
  
They took a long time examining and inventorying the contents of the weapons room, which didn't surprise me. Not much time was spent on the guestroom and bathroom, which was just fine with me. I saw Walden's head turn slightly in my direction as they looked under the bed, but I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of a return glance from me. He gave up very quickly. Finally, the Aurors went into Walden's office, the very last room in the house. By now, Evan was completely asleep, so I spoke very quietly in Erik's ear. "Hey Erik, there's a picture of you in there!" I said.  
  
He chuckled. "Yeah, that's not all there is in there." I raised my eyebrows. Was he talking about the desk? Maybe Walden had some incriminating papers in there or something, but they would have arrived after my time. The Aurors were now looking through the desk. To my surprise, they finished this search quickly. Then, they turned to the pictures on the wall. One of them removed the picture of the New York Auror Force and looked at it. The other one tapped the wall with her wand.  
  
"Hey, Erik, that's the--" But I never finished my sentence. My mouth remained open, a frozen O of amazement and shock. The wall was moving. Gooseflesh covered my arms and the back of my neck. The fucking wall was moving. The Aurors, after performing a series of spells that I didn't recognize, walked through the hole in the wall.  
  
And into the room I had seen in my Pensieve, that long-ago night in Massachusetts.*  
  
  
  
* See Date with an Executioner, chapter 6, "Sympathy for the Devil": 


	7. Chapter 7 Justitia Omnibus

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here-I own the rest.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the final one in the story arc that contains "Dark Redemption" and "Date with an Executioner." Read DR first, then Date, then (if you're still interested) come back and read this one. This story is rated "R" for language. Readers will also note that it delves into books 5-7 speculation.  
  
One of my acknowledgement notes was cut off from the end of the previous chapter-here it is: I believe Riley, of Pawn to Queen fame, was the inspiration for the Pensieve projection scene. Thanks again, Riley!  
  
Thank you, all reviewers! We're nearing the end of this little party...only a couple more chapters to go! Writing the trilogy has been a whole lot of fun for me and I hope you readers have enjoyed it as well.  
  
There are now less than 100 days to go until Order of the Phoenix comes out. I'll be at a local bookstore (Atlanta, GA area) in costume that night.  
  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 7 - Justitia Omnibus  
  
The courtroom, once again, erupted into chaos once the observers realized what they were seeing. The heads on the walls and the torture equipment and the display of executioners' axes were all just as I had remembered them and exactly as they had been shown in my Pensieve. * The unicorn was even still crying-I wondered if someone ever came in to clean up the pool of silvery tears from the floor. Considering that the mounted head next to the unicorn was that of a house-elf, I couldn't imagine that the elves would visit the chamber voluntarily. I suppose Walden must have kept the place relatively tidy, although he hadn't been much of a housekeeper.  
  
This thought struck me as funny, although absurd in the current context, but I couldn't suppress my snort of hysterical laughter. Nobody heard me, as everyone apparently had an opinion on Walden's dungeon. And they were expressing them rather loudly. The judge was, once again, trying to keep order. I had a feeling the proceedings were about to be closed to the public, real soon now.  
  
"I say we cut off HIS head!"  
  
"How in Merlin's name could anyone do that to a unicorn!"  
  
"No punishment's too good for that Death Eating scum!" And so on. You get the idea.  
  
Erik nudged me. "See, I told ya you needed to be here for this! Ya never believe me, do ya, kid?"  
  
Speaking of kid, Evan was waking up. "Whatever! Get Evan out of here!" I said, to Erik, frantically. "He can't see this. I don't want him to see this!" The Pensieve projection was continuing to play on the wall. It seemed that Walden had owned an Iron Maiden. The Aurors were in the process of opening it up and revealing the long, sharp spikes within.  
  
"Yeah," said Erik, who was already, as he said this, standing up and hustling the very sleepy and confused-looking Evan to a side door. I, meanwhile, remained in my seat, looking at Walden. The contingent of Aurors had formed a ring around him, wands up, as the crowd was getting more than a little ugly. An aged witch, who was escorted out of the courtroom afterward, had already flung her cup of tea at him, while yelling, "You perverted bastard!" His hair was dripping, and he looked mad. He was mouthing something at me, and I merely shrugged and held up my hands. I hadn't known that the room actually existed, after all. He had essentially let me believe that it was a figment of my imagination, through a series of clever lies and misdirection. What had Walden said-that his great-grandfather, who had built the lodge, had been too straightforward to build a secret room? Well, that merely meant either he, his father, or his grandfather had not had such qualms. I had been under his spell at the time, and was thus predisposed to believe anything that he said.  
  
It was not long after order was finally established in the courtroom that the judge closed the proceedings to the public and declared a recess until the next morning. Erik and I took Evan back to the Leaky Cauldron, where we were staying for the duration of the trial.  
  
Over dinner, Erik and I discussed trivial matters, until I finally remembered the question I had been meaning to ask him.  
  
"When's Malfoy's trial?" I asked.  
  
"After this one's over," he said.  
  
"Who's that, Mommy?" asked Evan.  
  
I sighed. "Remember, in the second book, the bad man who gave the diary to Ginny?" I asked. Evan's face screwed up in concentration and he nodded, soberly. "Well, I knew him, too. He was a friend of your father's," I added. "He was in that picture I showed you, back-well, back home." Evan still considered Seattle his home. I, however, felt as if I had none.  
  
After dinner, we walked around Diagon Alley for a bit. Evan had ice cream at Florean Fortescues, but I wasn't in the mood for dessert. Erik dropped us off at our room and I stayed up late reading a Muggle mystery novel after I put Evan to bed.  
  
  
  
The next morning it was, obviously, far quieter in the courtroom. First, the Aurors completed their testimony. After they were done, they Disapparated directly from the witness stand-they were most likely overdue somewhere else.  
  
Mr. Nott then was tasked to complete his questioning of the witnesses. He was very subdued-realizing, I assumed, that the trial was not going to go in his or his client's favor, regardless of how many friendly witnesses testified to Walden's good qualities.  
  
I had also finally recalled why the barrister's name sounded so familiar. There was a Mr. Nott who had been a Death Eater-perhaps it was even this particular wizard's son. Walden had mentioned the name once or twice in passing. Pureblooded families still tended to keep to their own, even after Voldemort's defeat.  
  
I got up to use the ladies' room about halfway through Nott's questioning of yet another Ministry flunkie who had worked with Walden. When I exited the room, I decided to sit on the bench in the hall for a few minutes before returning. The proceedings were deadly dull, and I was getting overwhelmed. I had just closed my eyes, intending to rest for a moment, when I heard a familiar voice.  
  
"Rowan."  
  
I blinked. "Severus! You're here!"  
  
"Indeed, it does seem so," he replied, with a smirk. The war years had, ironically enough, been good to him. His hair was clean, longer than I remembered, and tied back from his face with a black velvet tie. He was in dress robes that had a bit of ornamentation on them, but were still-you guessed it-black. He actually looked younger than I remembered. The death of the Dark Lord had obviously served as a catalyst to remove much of the melancholia that had hung over him since his youth.  
  
I chuckled. "Still as sarcastic as ever, I see."  
  
"I fear that it would be a disappointment for you if I were not," he answered, and sat down on the bench next to me. He took my hand and kissed it. "I would not miss this trial for the world, Rowan. I have never forgotten what Macnair did to us."  
  
"Neither have I," I managed to croak, still in shock from the hand kiss. Just at that moment, the courtroom door burst open and Evan came running out.  
  
"Mommy!" he yelled. Erik was in close pursuit. He grabbed him by the hand just as he approached us on the bench.  
  
"Oh, hey there, Headmaster," said Erik, extending his hand. He and Severus shook. "Auror Gundarsson," said Severus, "It is a pleasure to see you again." My eyes got wide. I knew, of course, that Erik and Severus had mended fences during the war, but I hadn't seen actual evidence of it until that moment.  
  
"I keep telling him to call me Erik, but he won't listen," Erik said, to me.  
  
"Ah, you know how stiff and formal we are here in England," Severus remarked, and winked at me. Was he actually flirting? I thought, with some alarm. "Very well, Erik, you may call me Headmaster Snape," said Severus, with yet another smirk. We all laughed.  
  
"What are you going to do if I call you Severus, take points off me?" Erik said.  
  
"No, I shall just ignore you," he replied, with a genuine chuckle. "Just as I do all Colonials, save this one," and he put his hand on my shoulder. "You must be Evan," he said, turning to my son. Evan had been staring up at him in amazement. The reality of Severus was vastly different than the books. Knowing what I did now-Hermione Granger, the young Arithmancy Professor at Hogwarts had actually written them-I strongly suspected that his unfavorable literary description was her attempt to scare other witches away from him. She and Severus had dated, and from what I had heard since I returned to England, it had been a lot more serious than Severus had described to me in his letters. Not that I would have expected him to be indiscreet, of course.  
  
"Are you Professor Snape?" he asked. "Do you still teach Potions? Why didn't you like Harry Potter?"  
  
"Yes, I am," he said, and shook Evan's hand, not condescending to him in the least. "And no, I no longer teach; I'm the headmaster now. And I can assure you that I have a great deal of respect for Harry," he said. "You've obviously read the books," he added.  
  
"My Mommy and Maria read them to me," Evan answered. "I can read by myself now, though."  
  
"Very good," Severus responded. "Keep it up, as I expect to see you at Hogwarts when you're of age."  
  
Evan looked at me. "Am I really going to get to go there?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," I said, smiling at him.  
  
"Cooooooool!" Evan exclaimed.  
  
"Rowan, you are going to have to cure your son of his unfortunate predilection for American Muggle slang," Severus said. "Or I shall ensure that he becomes a Gryffindor, and then I shall be able to take points off him to my heart's delight. Not that I am permitted to have any official favoritism, of course," he finished.  
  
"Oh, I'm kind of hoping he'll be a Ravenclaw," I said. "I always liked Filius Flitwick."  
  
"I could see him in Ravenclaw, he's certainly quick-witted enough. Unfortunately, Filius is retiring at the end of this year, though. I was planning to ask Professor Vector to step up in his place. But enough of this school business; I am immersed in it all day. What is going on with the trial?"  
  
Erik spoke up. "Nott's just about ready to wrap up. It's a good thing nobody's in there to hear him; they might all lose their lunches 'cause of all the sweetness and light." He scowled. "I've never heard such a bunch of sh-um, trash in my whole life. Geez."  
  
"Nott Senior, I would assume," asked Severus, with an arched eyebrow. "Well, if he is anything like his son, I can assure you that trash is his stock in trade. He has been the Malfoy family solicitor for as long as I can recall."  
  
"Let's get back in there," I said.  
  
When we sat down, Walden turned round again and I saw his eyes widen slightly when he saw Severus. Severus, for his part, appeared to ignore Walden. However, he did take my hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Erik didn't miss any of the byplay, and he winked at me. Evan curled up, head in my lap, and looked up at the ceiling. Nott was pacing in front of the jury, droning on. When he finally finished, the judge called Percy Weasley for his opening statements without a pause.  
  
Weasley didn't mess around. He stated the facts succinctly and expertly drew from them the conclusion that Walden was guilty, guilty, and guilty. And-I gasped when he did this-he added that the Ministry wished to petition the jury to not only find Walden guilty, but sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss.  
  
Although I had, not seriously, hypothesized that this might be Walden's eventual fate, I hadn't actually known that the dementors were still around. Minister Weasley was on record as being their strong opponent, and they were no longer used to guard Azkaban. Voldemort had lured them to his side during the war, but work done by the Ministry's Unspeakables had quickly rendered the fearsome creatures useless. The specifics of this were still classified. Having been a big fan of the Muggle movie "Ghostbusters," I had, when I read the article about this, pictured a large marshmallowy Patronus that chased them all off.  
  
There was a murmur among the jury members after that statement. Walden didn't turn around and look at us. I nudged Erik. "Can they do that?" I asked.  
  
"Hell, yeah, they can," he whispered back. "They left a couple of 'em alive-or whatever, you know, they're not really alive, I guess--just for this purpose. Those other Death Eaters got it, but it was hushed up. I think they're going to destroy them after the trials are all complete, though. And you didn't hear that from me, by the way." The other Death Eaters that he was referring to were Crabbe and Goyle, who had somehow blundered through the war unscathed and had just gone on trial about a month prior. Remembering them, I couldn't imagine that they'd be a whole lot different after the Kiss.  
  
Weasley then called his first witness to the stand-Walden's secretary. I groaned, and not very silently. Walden didn't turn around and look at me this time, though.  
  
It was just as well. It turned out that she had been the one who had clued in the Aurors as to the existence of Walden's secret dungeon. It seemed that she had, in fact, been in love with him, and he had promised marriage to her, as soon as he divorced his wife. And to that end, he had begun divorce proceedings early in the summer of 1994, the very summer of that fateful Quidditch World Cup. However, after Lucius tasked him to find out about me, he had, according to the secretary (whose name was Branwen) become a man obsessed. He began standing her up for dates and becoming increasingly distant.  
  
"And after the Fall Equinox of that year," she said, her eyes full of tears, "He no longer paid any romantic attention to me at all." She had continued to work for him, though, as she needed the Galleons, but had pursued a transfer to another department. This had never come through, in true bureaucratic fashion, so she worked for Walden until he was asked to leave his post, as she had stated before.  
  
The Equinox, I thought. When I had opened my store. That had not been very long after the night of the assault. So Walden hadn't lied about everything, I suppose. I had always wondered, though, how on earth he had been able to get a divorce so rapidly.  
  
Weasley wrapped things up quickly, in an obvious attempt to preserve what was left of the poor witch's dignity. She walked out of the courtroom when she was done. She did not look at Walden as she departed-her head was held high and she had a satisfied little smile on her face. I looked at her, though, as she walked rather close to where I was sitting.  
  
Shining around her neck was an emerald cabochon on a beautiful silver snake chain. I recognized it. Lucius had given me one for Yule, that fateful year.  
  
  
  
* See Date with an Executioner, chapter 6, "Sympathy for the Devil": 


	8. Chapter 8 Inquiring Barristers

SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 8 - Inquiring Barristers Want to Know  
After she walked by, I nudged Erik. "Malfoy's gotten to her!" I whispered.  
  
"How do you know?" he whispered back. Severus looked at us quizzically, but said nothing.  
  
"Her necklace! I had one just like it! I knew he kept a supply of them." I let my sentence trail off at that unhappy confirmation of my suspicions.  
  
"Huh?" asked Erik.  
  
"Oh, never mind. Let's talk about it later, when we have a moment." Evan stirred a bit on my lap and I smoothed his hair down. "And we might want to involve Weasley in our conversation, as well," I added.  
  
Weasley, for his part, seemed to need no assistance-he called all of the character witnesses that Nott had previously called to the stand, and with a series of leading questions, managed to get them to give the exact opposite impression of Walden that they had given under Nott's careful coaching. I began to doze off during this part, and even Severus shifted repeatedly in his seat. Erik got up for numerous rest breaks, sometimes taking Evan with him. I, however, stayed in my seat.  
  
At long last, I was called to the stand. I had wondered if Weasley was going to call me before Walden. As I walked up the aisle to the witness stand, I was fervently glad that the proceedings were free of outside observers. When I sat in the chair, I couldn't help glancing over at Walden. He was indeed staring at me. He actually looked sad. I saw him turn and look at Evan, and I was sure I could see, in his eyes, regret for how the last few years had turned out. I remembered talking to him about how we'd raise our son, and how he had been looking forward to teaching him to ride and hunt. He had also been particularly anxious to see his first signs of magic. I remembered the sweater color change that Evan had effected in Seattle and smiled. Perhaps I'd get a chance to talk to Walden and if so, I didn't see any reason to deprive him of that knowledge- especially since, if things went as I expected, he was going to be deprived of all knowledge in a very short time.  
  
Weasley began his questioning, nodding politely to me as he did so.  
  
"Madam Hawthorne-" he began, and I saw both Severus and Walden frown at this. "Thank you for consenting to appear before this court. Would you please tell us the circumstances under which you first met the accused?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Weasley. I met him on a Saturday afternoon in September 1994, at my apartment on Diagon Alley." I replied.  
  
"And had you invited the accused, Mr. Macnair, to said apartment?"  
  
"No, he Apparated into the living room after I had taken down the anti- Apparition wards in preparation for my husband's arrival."  
  
"Can you state, for the record, your husband's name?"  
  
After I did, I heard a murmur of surprise from the jury members. Weasley forged on, pretending not to notice this.  
  
"Can you describe the appearance of Mr. Macnair that day?"  
  
"Yes. He was wearing a long black hooded robe and a white mask that covered his face."  
  
The jury murmured again. The judge tapped his gavel. Nott stood up and made an objection, which the judge waved away almost as casually as swatting a fly.  
  
"Prior to these proceedings, you had informed the court that you had preserved your memories of that day in a Pensieve. Would you be willing to have these memories displayed to the court today?"  
  
"Yes," I said. With that, two of the Aurors walked up to the stand with my Pensieve (returned by courtesy of the New York Auror Force) and the projector. I looked over at Erik and nodded, and he took Evan by the hand and led him out of the courtroom. As he walked out, a group of witches and wizards walked in. I wasn't at all surprised to see that they were Walden's parents and sisters. They, just like the Pensieve, were also being escorted by Aurors, and they were led to seats directly behind Severus. Great, I thought.  
  
And thus, the events of that long-ago afternoon played again. And now, I knew that they were indeed the truth and not a fabrication created by anyone. I made a mental note to watch and see what actually happened to my charmed Muggle CD player. Walden blew it up and it remained in pieces on the table as the scene shifted to his dungeon. When Lucius Malfoy entered the room, Weasley stopped the Pensieve projection, which was just as well considering that I was horribly embarrassed. As you might recall, I was lying on the floor at that point, naked and Petrified. I wondered what on earth Walden's parents must have thought about all this. While I recalled that in the distant past, Highland lairds had tended to rush in and grab whatever women they wanted at the time, surely that sort of behavior wasn't usually condoned among modern wizards. I didn't know. Perhaps Walden's father had claimed his mother in a similar fashion.  
  
"I will ask the jury's cooperation," began the judge, "as from this point forward, you are to pay attention only to Mr. Macnair's role in the events. Barrister Weasley will now step forward to facilitate this matter." Weasley walked forward and intoned a spell, in the midst of which I heard Walden's name, and tapped the side of the Pensieve. And then, the rest of the evening's events played, but the segments that didn't include Walden played in sort of a "fast-forward" fashion.  
  
Weasley didn't turn off the damn device until it had displayed the part where Walden returned Severus and I to the apartment, and he let it go on a bit after that, enough so that I could see that Severus, his face impassive, had actually repaired my CD player. He had always grudgingly accepted my love of Muggle music, so I found this rather touching.  
  
The Aurors came up and rolled away the Pensieve and its projector. Weasley approached me on the stand. By this point, I was ready to burst into tears, but I managed to retain my composure somehow.  
  
"Can you give a short synopsis of what occurred after that evening, with regard to Mr. Macnair?"  
  
"Yes. He used the Imperius curse variant put on me by Mr. Malfoy to persuade me to accompany him on a series of-well, assignations. On Saturday nights, from late September until December of 1994."  
  
"What happened in December, 1994 to end these assignations?"  
  
"I returned to Massachusetts to obtain counseling, advice, and help from my friends there with regard to the night of the assault."  
  
"Did Mr. Macnair give you any gift or token, prior to your return to Massachusetts?"  
  
"Yes, he gave me a bracelet," I replied.  
  
"The prosecution will now enter into evidence one bracelet, property of Madam Rowan Hawthorne, a Yule gift to her from Mr. Macnair in 1994," intoned Percy, and he held up the bracelet. I heard somebody in the row behind Severus gasp-it may have been Walden's mother, but I couldn't tell. He then asked me to tell about its appraisal in New York and its magickal appraisal by Professor Flitwick, begging the jury's indulgence for skipping ahead in the story.  
  
"And what happened in Massachusetts with regard to Mr. Macnair?" asked Weasley, after the bracelet's provenance had been firmly established.  
  
"He sent repeated owls from both his office and from his home, and after I didn't answer them-there was an owl strike that year--he visited me at the Salem Witches' Institute, where I was staying." I continued the story of that week in Salem. It had been rather fun and exciting at the time, but in retrospect, the whole thing seemed rather tawdry. Weasley interjected questions at salient points in order to move the story along. By the end of our dual recitations, the jury was meant to be convinced of two things- that I had been coerced into the relationship, and that Walden had not acted with honor. I still wasn't entirely sure of the former, but I figured that the spell, being old magick as it was, probably had lingering effects.  
  
Then Weasley began questioning me about the Dark Revels and Walden's participation in them. I detailed the events and explained how they had gotten worse and worse that summer, up until Voldemort's return. Then I related the events of that night, and again the jury gasped at the proper points in the story.  
  
And finally-although I was not sure if I would be able to do so without breaking down-I told the story of the last Revel I had attended, and how I had fled the Monday after that weekend.  
  
Weasley didn't add much to my testimony. I walked back to where Severus sat. He had moved, so that he was no longer near Walden's family. For that, I was grateful. He took my hand as I sat down and I felt comforted.  
  
Walden was the last to be called to the stand by Weasley. It was a bit difficult for me hearing his voice after all this time. He gave his answers in little better than monosyllabic fashion, as if he knew that there was to be no escaping his fate.  
  
"And can you tell us your version of how you came to meet Madam Hawthorne?"  
  
"Aye. I was asked to find her by Lucius Malfoy. I found her. He asked me to bring her and her husband to my lodge that night in September. I did."  
  
"And will you explain to the court why you felt it necessary to trespass on her home and assault her?"  
  
"Lucius Malfoy specifically requested that I do so. I owed him a favor." He paused. "But once I met Madam Hawthorne, I regretted having acted in such a fashion." He hung his head.  
  
"The prosecution acknowledges your regret, Mr. Macnair, but I request that you refrain from making such comments and merely answer the questions," Weasley barked. Then he took Walden's words and twisted them for his own use. "Nevertheless, I do appreciate your bringing up that subject. Did you tell Madam Hawthorne, that evening, that you regretted your actions?"  
  
"Nay, I did not, I told her later, though." Walden said.  
  
"But regardless of your supposed regret, you still participated in the assault that evening and after that evening, used the Imperius Curse variant to bend Madam Hawthorne to your will, did you not?"  
  
"OBJECTION!" barked Nott.  
  
"Overruled, the witness will answer the question, as it is relevant," stated the judge.  
  
"Aye," said Walden. "I wanted to be with her in any way that I could."  
  
"Touching, Mr. Macnair," said Weasley. "And did you enchant the bracelet that you gave to her for this purpose, as well?"  
  
"Nay, I didna enchant it," answered Walden.  
  
"Correction," said Weasley. "My mistake. Did you have the bracelet enchanted for this purpose?"  
  
"Aye, my cousin enchanted it," answered Walden. "But I did it because I loved her!" he added.  
  
Severus, sitting next to me, scowled and made a disparaging noise under his breath.  
  
"Again, rather touching," said Weasley. "But I might suggest that perhaps a floral bouquet or a greeting card might have been a more socially acceptable way of expressing such sentiments."  
  
The jury could no longer hold back-most of them burst into laughter after Weasley's remark.  
  
  
  
There wasn't much deliberation. We were called back to the courtroom three hours after the jury was escorted away. Apparently (as Percy Weasley told me later), the only delay had been the fault of one juror, who really wanted to see Walden beheaded rather than kissed by Dementors, feeling it to be more karmically correct, I suppose. The guilty verdict had been decided on in the first ten minutes.  
  
The judge, who clearly was not interested in prolonging matters any more than necessary, scheduled Walden's execution (technically, it wasn't, but you get the idea) for three weeks hence, and ended the trial.  
  
Severus, Erik, Evan and I walked toward the door. Walden's mother approached me.  
  
"I know you probably doona want to see us, Rowan, but we'd appreciate it if you could find the time to talk with us, and perhaps allow us to see Evan."  
  
Both Erik and Severus were bristling, but I waved them off.  
  
"None of this was your fault, Elspeth. Of course, you can see Evan. In fact," I waved Severus forward-he was actually carrying my son, who had fallen asleep yet again. "You can see him now." Severus sat him gently on his feet and he rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Evan," I said, as he slowly woke up. "This is your grandmother." He blinked and smiled at her.  
  
"Hello," he said, giving a tentative smile, and looking about as adorable as any kid had a right to be. Even Severus was looking at him fondly.  
  
"Oh, hullo, you sweet, wee lad, you," she said, with a smile. She picked him up and hugged him. "You look just like your father when he was your age," she said. Gavin, Walden's father, stood impassively behind her, flanked by Walden's sisters-none of them were smiling, but they didn't look particularly angry, either. "We have to go now, but I hope you'll be able to talk with us some more, and perhaps even visit us someday," and as she said that, she looked at me. I assumed they were going to speak with Walden.  
  
"We might be able to arrange that," I said, although I was quite leery at the idea of walking into their house, or even worse, the lodge.  
  
  
  
There was a victory party at the Leaky Cauldron that night in one of the private rooms, but I really didn't have a taste for it. Erik insisted that I attend, though, and he babysat Evan up in the room while I headed downstairs. I spent most of the time in a corner, talking with Severus. He asked me what I planned to do now that the trial was over, and I said that I had been considering moving back to Salem, but I wasn't sure.  
  
"You could live at Snape Manor," he said. "Both you and Evan, of course."  
  
"Oh-I really couldn't," I said. "That's very generous, but, I.well, I don't see how that's appropriate, Severus," I added.  
  
"Oh, sod appropriate!" Severus hissed, in my ear. "I want you to come back to me. I want to have another handfasting, and I'll adopt Evan. I am getting too old to worry about what others will think. I want the life that we originally planned, Rowan."  
  
"But-well, what about.." My voice trailed off and I looked down at my hands.  
  
"What about what? I know that you still care about me, I could tell from your letters," he said, with a satisfied smirk.  
  
"Well, I do, but-" With supremely bad timing, the door to the private room burst open and in walked Professor Hermione Granger. She didn't waste a moment attempting to be sociable, she simply bulldozed a path directly over to us.  
  
"We've TALKED about this, Severus," she began, in a voice low enough so that observers would think she was being polite. I knew better. "You told me you wouldn't have anything more to do with her!"  
  
"I did not say that. You suggested that. I have obviously not taken your suggestion," Severus responded.  
  
Once again, as in the old days, nobody was listening to me. I had gone through too much to put up with this treatment again. Furthermore, I had several years of management experience dealing with irascible, youthful software geniuses under my belt. I was no longer the witch I had been, the one who allowed others to walk all over her. I stood up.  
  
"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you. You must be Madam Granger. Obviously, you know who I am. And I would now like to ask you to either sit down and shut the flying fuck up, or leave this party. Your behavior is completely unacceptable and immature in the extreme. And you can stuff your suggestions for Severus where the sun doesn't shine, too, chickie!"  
  
"Well!" she flounced. "I-I never,"  
  
"That is completely obvious to ME," I said. "This is a victory party. I suggest you look up the definition of that word. In short, you have no good reason to be here." Neener, neener, neener, I thought.  
  
"I have a perfect right to be here," she said. "Mr. Weasley invited me."  
  
"That is as may be," I said. "But that invitation gives you no right to intrude on our private conversation."  
  
"You're harmful to Severus!" she said. "You-you broke his heart!"  
  
"No, my dear Miss Granger," Severus said smoothly, interjecting himself between us. Nobody had noticed what was going on yet, and hopefully they wouldn't. "She did not. Macnair's actions did that. I did not know the full extent of them until the trial," he finished.  
  
"And you said Macnair was handsome!" I added. I admit that maybe this remark was a bit catty, and I shouldn't have said it, but I really couldn't resist. "And don't try to deny it, the books are available in every language at this point."  
  
"I merely described his personal appearance in an accurate way!" she said.  
  
"Mmmm-hmmm," I said. "And did you do the same for Professor Snape?" She blanched and turned away, then stalked over to the drinks table.  
  
"Come with me, Rowan, would you?" asked Severus. He escorted me through the door into the main part of the pub. We sat in an obscure booth and ordered drinks. I was sorry to see that Severus ordered single-malt, but I tried not to let my dismay of that fact show.  
  
After the waiter walked away, Severus began, "I am sorry for that. I really do wish I had never gotten involved with her. But we worked together, as you know-and.and I was lonely, and."  
  
"You don't need to apologize for it. I can see the attraction. She's smart and rather pretty, too. I kinda wish you'd gone for someone a bit older, though," I said.  
  
"Well, she does not act like girls her age," Severus said.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, that little display was worthy of the very stupidest of American Muggle teenagers," I responded.  
  
"Touché," riposted Severus. "I truly never thought you would be returning to the wizarding world. I feared you had been soured on it forever. I did not know the conditions that had been placed upon your return."  
  
"Well, nobody was supposed to know, Severus." I said. "That was the whole point."  
  
"At any rate, I would rather not discuss Miss Granger, if it is all right with you. I would rather discuss your answers to the questions that I asked you in the other room."  
  
"Which questions would those be?" I said, but I smiled at him.  
  
"Well, there were actually several, but I shall recap them for you. First, would you and Evan live at Snape Manor, second, would you consider restarting our relationship, and third, would you consider becoming my wife.again? The latter, of course, would take place after some time has elapsed," he clarified.  
  
"Severus, it's.well, it's been a rather long time. I'm not the same person any more and I'm certain that you have changed. What makes you so certain that it will work?" I waved over the waiter for another mead.  
  
"I never ceased loving you, Rowan," he said, quietly. "And I feel that any changes that I have made in my life have been for the better."  
  
"I must say that you do look very good, Severus. Headmastership becomes you."  
  
"It is not the office that does so, it was the final and irrevocable death of my past," he said, taking my hand in his.  
  
"Yeah, I'm pretty happy that he bought the farm, myself," I said, trying, and failing, to suppress a grimace.  
  
"I had no idea that Macnair had actually gone through with that business the night of the last Revel." He shuddered. "I had no idea at all. You did not tell me. I wonder why Auror Gundarsson did not tell me? If I had known about that at the time-why, I would have-"  
  
"There's nothing you could have done. You would have been killed!" The waiter arrived with my drink and a basket of snacks. As we had been interrupted in the other room before the food arrived, we both dug in.  
  
"Better that than what you went through," Severus said, after he was done eating.  
  
"No, that wouldn't have been a bit better! It's just what they-what he wanted, anyway. Well, er, Macnair wanted you dead, too..oh Gods, I'm really sorry I said that."  
  
"No need to apologize. I did know that, Rowan. He sent me some owls, after you went to live with him."  
  
"What!"  
  
"Yes, the letters went into great detail about-about things I'd rather not have known, and always ended up with a cheery little death threat at the end. I would have entered them into evidence, but they're somewhere in my chimney flue at this point." He chuckled, but didn't smile. Then he waved over the waiter. Please, please, order something other than single-malt, I thought, but that was not the case.  
  
I sighed. "Gods, didn't he ever have anything to do at work when he wasn't chopping off heads?"  
  
"Apparently not."  
  
"That poor secretary of his-I think she's the one I feel sorriest for, next to all those Muggles. And now Malfoy's apparently got to her."  
  
"What makes you say that?" He looked puzzled.  
  
"The necklace she was wearing. I-well, Lu-well, Malfoy, I mean, he gave one to me just like it. I figured at the time he had a stock of them on hand for bribery purposes."  
  
"Yes, that would be just like him. Have you told Weasley?"  
  
"No, not yet. We have a final debriefing tomorrow. And, Severus?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I have to talk to Walden one last time. Will that-I mean, do you mind if I do that?" If only for Evan's sake, I thought, so that he can speak with his father. I felt that it was necessary.  
  
He smiled. "Not at all. And the fact that you asked my opinion on the matter partially answers my questions, does it not?"  
  
I smiled back at him. "I guess it does, at that." 


	9. Chapter 9 Demented, and Other Varieties

SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 9 - Demented, and Other Varieties of Affection  
When I went down to pay for my room at the Leaky Cauldron the next morning, Tom told me the bill had already been paid.  
  
"And for the next three weeks," he said. "By the Headmaster." He winked at me. "I hope that means good news for you two," he added.  
  
I smiled at him. "Could be." Then I took Evan's hand and we Apparated to the Ministry.  
  
Percy Weasley did not look any the worse for wear after the previous night's festivities. His desk was neat, but stacked high with papers. "Madam Hawthorne!" he said, with a genuine smile. "I am sorry that I didn't have a chance to speak with you much last night. I'll make sure that this goes quickly." We discussed the trial outcome for a bit, and then he informed me of what information was to remain confidential. I signed a parchment to that effect, and that was that.  
  
"Now. This may be the wrong question to ask you, and do forgive me if it's inappropriate, but.would you wish to see Mr. Macnair and speak with him before.er, before the procedure?"  
  
Procedure? I thought. Makes it sound like he's getting a root canal or something. I tried not to smile. A soul canal, I guess. "Er. Yes. And I'd like Evan-my son-to be with me, if possible."  
  
"We can arrange that. There are several types of visits that you could choose--" he picked up a sheet of parchments. "Er. The conjugal visit," he blushed. "Never mind about that one." Yeah, right, I thought. I'm sure that's what Walden would choose if he had the opportunity. "Erm. The joint visit. That's the one you want, I'd think," he awkwardly finished.  
  
"Well, and I would like to talk to him alone, as well."  
  
"Of course."  
  
  
  
I left the Ministry, clutching an appointment card that detailed, in Weasley's excruciatingly neat handwriting, our visitation times. So, Evan and I had two weeks to simply hang out. This was an odd concept for me-I had always either had a job or been on my way to one, or been embroiled in my "vida loca" of the past decade. Hanging out was a foreign concept to me.  
  
But we had a good time. I wrote owls to everyone in Salem, telling them the news and sending them copies of the Prophet. I bought lots of books at Flourish and Blotts and new robes at Madam Malkins. I bought Evan a toy broom at the Quidditch shop, and we visited Ambrosius, my old boss at the Apothecary, who gave Evan all sorts of potion ingredients and a tiny kit so he could start brewing his own. "Never too early to start," he said, as he waved goodbye.  
  
We went to Hogsmeade and stayed for three days with Morgaine, who was still running the Apothecary there and doing a booming business. Ruthven was still behind the counter and there was a new girl, Freya, who was very good with customers. Morgaine said we could come back and stay as long as we liked, but she had to go to Cornwall to take care of an ill aunt. Such was the life of a purveyor of herbal remedies-it was much like being a Muggle and owning a truck or SUV, you were never in lack of friends.  
  
And finally, when we returned to the Cauldron, I met, for an hour or so, with Professor Granger, who apologized for her behavior the night of the party. It seems that she and her boyfriend, Harry Potter, had been in the midst of a lovers' quarrel at the time. I told her that I had already gotten over it and I appreciated her apology. Evan, of course, was thrilled to meet the author of the books he loved so well, and she regaled both of us with outtakes and subtle ways in which she had changed wizarding world events and personages in order to make the books slightly different from reality. Peeves the Poltergeist, it seemed, was one such invention.  
  
"And I really hated putting him in," she said, "but apparently the silly Muggle publisher insisted. Said the books needed more juvenile humor, so they'd sell better." She grimaced.  
  
"I'm glad you said that," I said, "Because I was wondering if perhaps I had forgotten about him!"  
  
"No-oh, blast!" she muttered. A small chime was ringing from the vicinity of her purse.  
  
"That can't be a cellular phone!" I exclaimed.  
  
"Mommy, can I go to the bathroom?" Evan asked. He had recently been asserting his independence in that area, and I didn't see the harm in it. On the whole, and especially since the Dark Lord's demise, the wizarding world was a safe place for kids, so I let him go. I watched carefully, though, as he opened the door and went in.  
  
"Not a, um, a Muggle device," she laughed. "It's a spell-it means I have to get back and grade papers for tomorrow. It's been a pleasure talking with you, Madam Hawthorne," she said, as she stood up.  
  
"And with you, Miss Granger," I said, waving goodbye to her as she Disapparated. I sat and drank my coffee, waiting for Evan to get back.  
  
After a few minutes, I was a bit concerned that he hadn't emerged from the bathroom, so I asked Tom to go in and check on him. Tom came running out, breathless, a few seconds later. "Madam Hawthorne, there's nobody in there!"  
  
"What!" I hadn't taken my eye from the door. Nobody, save Evan, had gone in or out in the last few minutes. "Did you-"  
  
"Yes, under every one. And there's no window in there." He ran back in, brandishing his wand and quickly reentered. "Someone's Disapparated from there, very recently!"  
  
"Walden." I said. I tossed some Galleons at Tom for the meal. "If anyone comes here looking for me, tell them I'm at the Ministry."  
  
"Shall I call the Aurors for you, Madam?" he asked. He walked over to the fireplace and grabbed the Floo Powder from the mantel.  
  
"Yes, please-" and then, Professor Granger came running in, her hair disheveled.  
  
"I am so very sorry I'm late, Madam Hawthorne!" she said. "You must think I'm dreadful-first, I caused that horrible scene-"  
  
"What awful scene?" I said. "I thought we had a very nice conversation. Didn't you just have to go and.er.grade.." And then I knew. I don't know how, but I knew. "Oh shit, oh holy fucking shit..." I mumbled. An hour she had talked with us-just long enough for a draught of Polyjuice to work. And the chime had rung, and Evan.oh Gods.  
  
"What! What is it!" she asked.  
  
"Miss Granger, did you leave something behind?" asked Tom, who had set down the Floo Powder and approached us.  
  
"What on earth? What do you mean, I just this moment arrived here!" she said. "I was held late at school-this reporter from the Daily Prophet wanted to do an interview with me about the books. And I sort of lost track of time after that.and."  
  
"Well, someone was here, looking just like you, and they took my son!" I yelled. I swung my wand in front of her and muttered an old Institute spell. She flinched, but stood still. A gold bubble appeared in the air, and then popped. She was telling the truth. "Please go and get Headmaster Snape, if he's available. And tell him to go straight to the Ministry. Walden Macnair has escaped."  
  
  
  
"Madam Hawthorne, I'm sure we can find him," Auror Potter was saying. "Well, both of them. And believe me, we'll just bring the dementor straight to Macnair-no more fooling around." He frowned.  
  
Under other circumstances, I would have been more excited. This was, after all, the first time that I was actually getting to meet the famous Harry Potter. He was tall and skinny and his hair was messy, but he no longer wore large ungainly black glasses-he had traded up to frames that wouldn't have looked out of place in a Muggle designer shop. And he was very nice, and very professional, and very courteous.  
  
"I'm all for that," I said. "Hell, let me hold the thing's leash myself!" I added.  
  
"Oh, you'd have to get in line," he replied. "He's not the most popular wizard round here. Besides, I want everything to work out between you and Headmaster Snape, so we've got to find your son." He smiled. "I'm going to ask Professor Granger to marry me when term's over," he added.  
  
"Oh, how marvelous!" I said. "I always thought you two belonged together."  
  
"I always thought so, too," he said, with a shy smile. There was a knock at the door. Potter idly waved his wand at it. "Come in, Severus," he said.  
  
Severus shook Auror Potter's hand and then stepped close to me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Harry, find this bastard, will you? I've really had enough of his shite."  
  
"We're working on it. The Unspeakables say they've tracked him to outside of Hogsmeade. They think he might be trying to get to his lodge on foot or perhaps by broom. The problem is that he's in his element up there and he's most likely heavily armed. It's possible that his family may be aiding him, but they're playing dumb."  
  
"Yeah, I just bet they are," I said. "And to think they wanted me to come for a visit! They probably had this planned all along, the sneaky Highland assholes!"  
  
"I don't understand what he thinks he's trying to prove by doing this," said Potter.  
  
"Don't be so naïve, Harry," said Severus. "He's trying to get back at Rowan for depriving him of his son for all those years. Pureblood families tend to be rather touchy about such things. And I imagine he'd rather like to avoid losing his soul, as well."  
  
"What I meant was-we're GOING to capture him, no matter what, so this is a pointless gesture on his part!" said Potter, somewhat angrily.  
  
"Gryffindors," sighed Severus. "Macnair's perfectly capable of eluding you. He may very well be planning to help Malfoy break loose as well, so you'd better double your guards on him. When will you wizards learn to listen to me? I do know more than a little about those two."  
  
And so do I, I thought. Severus was right, but I didn't figure it was my place to say so.  
  
Auror Potter strode to his mantel and tossed some Floo Powder in. "Ron?" A redhead's head and shoulders appeared in the fire. He was eating a sandwich. "Would you double the guards on Malfoy?"  
  
"Sure thing, Harry. Oh, hello there, Severus," he said.  
  
"Weasley," said Severus. "Triple the guards."  
  
"No Macnair yet, huh?" he replied. "Good idea," and he disappeared.  
  
"Ron Weasley?" I asked.  
  
"The very same," said Auror Potter. "We went through Auror training together."  
  
"I still contend that you're wasting your talents here, Harry," said Severus. "The offer stands."  
  
"He wants me to come and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Potter. "Maybe next year," and he winked at me. 


	10. Chapter 10 FatherSon Bonding

DISCLAIMER: No own, no sue!  
  
Thanks to all reviewers who have been enjoying my recent barrage of updates.  
  
I think, as far as Rowan is concerned, this story will be my last featuring her. These events, by the way, are meant to be occurring in the post-book- 7 world, after Harry and his classmates have left Hogwarts. As JKR has informed us that she's not going to be writing anything about the adult Harry (bummer!), I'll end my narrative here as well.  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 10 - Father-Son Bonding  
Erik walked up to me at my makeshift bed on the bench in the hall outside Harry Potter's office. The latter had actually offered me his couch, but as he looked vastly more tired than I, I insisted (in my very best Mommy Voice of Authority) that he should sleep there instead. Looking very grateful, he had, and I conjured some blankets and pillows and made the best of things in the hallway. As it was, by that time, nearly three in the morning, it was rather quiet there.  
  
"Hey kid," said Erik, in a cheery voice. In his hand was a little cardboard tray containing what looked to me like the nectar of the gods at that point-large cups of coffee from an infamous Muggle shop, which was based in my former adopted city of Seattle. I had become somewhat of a coffee snob over my years in the rainy city, and that shop was by far not my favorite, but the aroma was heavenly in spite of that.  
  
"Oh, you shouldn't have. But I'm glad you did." I sat up and banished the blankets and pillow away with a flick of my wand. "Any news?"  
  
"Nothing good. They've surrounded his lodge, but it doesn't look as if anyone but the elves have been there for months. And the elves all surrendered the minute the Aurors showed up." He laughed.  
  
"Yeah, well, that head on the wall thing probably wasn't much of a morale- builder for them," I said, as I took the first sip of my coffee. "Perfect." I remarked.  
  
"I remembered. Large, no sugar, no cream. How can you drink that battery acid?" asked Erik, with a grimace.  
  
"Same way you can drink that watered-down swill, bucko," I said. "Well, what should I do, just wait here?"  
  
"I hate to say it, but yes," Erik replied. "I'll wait with you."  
  
  
  
Walden had always had an escape plan. Over the years, made a sizable investment of Galleons toward bribing two carefully-selected Aurors, both Purebloods, both with close relatives in Slytherin House. To back it up, he had used Imperius Arcanum. When he had written the trigger phrase on his food tray, the second Auror had created a realistic-looking wax model of Walden and escorted the real one outside his cell under an Invisibility Cloak and Apparated with him to Knockturn Alley. (He would be found, a couple of weeks later, sleeping off an extended drunk in an upstairs room at the Claw and Stang, wandless) Along the way, the Auror had told him the story of Professor Granger's outburst at the trial victory party, a week and a half prior.  
  
In an alley behind Borgin and Burkes, Walden cast a glamour on himself and went to the offices of the Daily Prophet, where he performed a similar operation on a reporter whom he had cultivated years before, when he had first begun working for the Ministry. Every so often, just for fun, Walden had impelled the hapless wizard to write editorials about the dangers of certain magickal creatures, so that he could later have the fun of slaying them. This time, though, he sent the reporter to Hogwarts to gather information on Granger, and get some of her hair.  
  
Later that day, Walden, Polyjuiced into Professor Granger, had left the Leaky Cauldron. He had come right back in the door under his Invisibility Cloak, gone into the loo, put a Sleep Charm on Evan, and Disapparated with him to Hogsmeade. Outside the town, he had destroyed the vial of Polyjuice, cast glamours on both himself and Evan so they wouldn't be recognized, ditched the Auror's borrowed wand, and flown up into the Highland wilds on a broom (which he destroyed later). After picking up his tent and spare wand, which were hidden not far from his lodge, he headed in a direction unrelated to either his lodge or his parents' manor house, and had pitched the tent in a forest glade, which he then heavily warded.  
  
Only then had he woken up Evan, who was actually a bit excited to see him at first, but then, when he realized that his mother was not going to show anytime soon, got increasingly agitated. They had eaten dinner in the tent's small kitchen and slept in the twin beds in the tiny bedroom, and now here they were.  
  
"Son, it's going to be all right," Walden said. They were seated at the table in the tent's kitchen, and he was holding Evan close. Evan had been crying for most of the morning. He had refused to get close to Walden at first, but after a while, apparently the boy had figured that his father meant him no harm, and had allowed Walden to hug him.  
  
"Why can't I see my mommy? Where is she? She said you did bad things! Why did you take me away?" Evan asked, between sobs.  
  
"Because a son is meant to be with his father," sighed Walden. "I want all of us to be together. Your mother shouldna taken you away like she did."  
  
"I want my mommy! She didn't take me away! I want Maria, too! And I want to go back to my school with all my friends!" Evan said. He wriggled his way out of Walden's grasp and stood up in front of his father, confronting him.  
  
"Son, you're going to go to school here in Scotland, with other wizarding children. You'll like it better. And when you get older, you're going to go to Hogwarts. You canna go back and live among the Muggles, I willna allow it!" Walden replied. "You're a fine boy, I'm very proud of you. You have a lot of fire in you, too, just like your mother." He smiled. "Come on, let's go outside. I need to get some more wood for the stove and fireplace, and we can look around in the forest a bit if you want."  
  
"Well..okay," said Evan, a bit warily. "Are you going to kill another bunny?"  
  
Walden sighed again, this one very long and drawn-out. "It was a hare, nae a bunny, and we had to eat something, that's why I killed it. What have those Muggles been teaching you? You sound like-like..." He remembered the week he had spent in Salem with Rowan, and that horrible Mudblood who had confronted them in the pub. "Like a Mudblood. And I doona like that at all. How do you think food gets on your table?"  
  
"Mommy buys it at the store! Or Maria buys it," said Evan.  
  
"Who in Merlin's name is this Maria you keep talking about?" Walden wondered if perhaps Rowan had decided to take up exclusively with a woman in his absence. He didn't have a problem with such things, as his daughter was Sapphic, but he just couldn't reconcile it with what he remembered of Rowan. He smiled to himself. He remembered a lot about Rowan, and he was going to be damned if he didn't take pleasure with her again, at least once. She had looked just as desirable to him as she ever had when he had spoken to her in the Leaky Cauldron yesterday. In fact, he had originally considered bringing enough Polyjuice for several hours and attempting to take her upstairs to one of the rooms and seduce her, but he had decided not to press his luck. Perhaps he should have, given the existence of the mysterious Maria. "And how do you think the food gets to the store? Somebody has to kill the animals in order for the meat to get there!"  
  
"I don't really like meat," Evan said, every bit the picture of innocence.  
  
"Son, let's go outside before I lose my temper," Walden said.  
  
  
  
By mid-afternoon, I was grubby and miserable, and Erik escorted me back to the Leaky Cauldron so that I could take a shower and change my clothes. When we returned to the Ministry, there was still no news.  
  
"Apparently there are thousands of acres of forest up there where he could be hiding," sighed Auror Potter. "The Unspeakables found the remains of a tracking artifact that was attached to his robes in the woods outside Hogsmeade. They also found the remains of a vial which contained residues of Polyjuice Potion, and a wand belonging to the missing Auror," he said. "Can I have your permission to send the Werewolf Squad up there?" The Squad, headed by Remus Lupin, was used primarily for tracking purposes. Formed during the war, they had been instrumental in hunting down many of Voldemort's followers. They did not, however, operate during the full moon- -they worked as humans, but using their enhanced senses. Thankfully, the new moon had been three days prior.  
  
"Oh, absolutely. Hey, could I see Remus Lupin before they leave? It's been a while." During the year after I had met Severus, while I had been working and living on Diagon Alley, Severus and I had spent some time with Remus. Unfortunately, at the end of that year, the two friends had a falling out, one which hadn't been resolved until during the war. Naturally, I hadn't been around to see their reconciliation, but I had read of Remus' heroic exploits over the years.  
  
"I didn't know that you knew Remus," Potter said.  
  
"Oh, yes, but I haven't seen him since that year he taught at Hogwarts, though," I replied.  
  
"He was the best Defense teacher I had during my school years. I hope, if I take the position, that I'll be half as good as him," Potter said, as he walked over to his mantel. He paused, though, and turned to me before he used the Floo powder. "Why didn't I ever see you when I was at school?"  
  
"Oh, Severus didn't want students knowing anything about his private life," I said. "He was always going on about it-it was somewhat of an obsession with him. He even gave Draco Malfoy some Memory Charms so he'd forget that he saw me. That was actually the cause of-well, of a lot of trouble," I said. "But that's a long story."  
  
"You know, I suppose I never did know much about what any of the professors did when term was out," Potter mused. "How odd." He threw the glittering powder into the flames. "Remus?"  
  
"Harry! I'll be right there," came Remus' voice. How good it was, to hear him after all these years. He had been so warm and funny, and so kind to Severus. All that year, during the week while he and I were separated by necessity of our jobs, Severus and Remus would get together and play cards or just read or grade papers together in front of the fireplace. That companionship had changed Severus for the better during those months.  
  
Just then, Remus stepped out of the fireplace, brushing at his robes. "Harry, I thought you'd probably want us to go up and look for that arse--- " He stopped talking when he saw me. "Rowan Hawthorne! Don't tell me- wait, it can't be. That's YOUR son? With Macnair?"  
  
I sighed, smiled, shrugged my shoulders, and walked over to him, where we hugged. "Severus is as secretive as ever, I see. Didn't he tell you?"  
  
"Well, no. By the time we got round to speaking again, he just said you'd gone back to America because of the war."  
  
"That was, technically, the truth," I said, chuckling.  
  
"You shouldn't be so modest," Potter said, walking up to us. "It was Rowan, here, who gave crucial information that led to the surprise Auror attack at the Battle of Hogwarts. Macnair and Malfoy kidnapped her and while under the Imperius Curse, she learned a lot about the workings of Voldemort's Inner Circle. But she escaped with her son and the Yanks put her up in their...er, witness thingy...."  
  
"The Magical Witness Protection Program," I helpfully supplied. "And, well, I wasn't quite as heroic as Auror Potter is making it sound." I sat down on the couch. All of this waiting was, ironically enough, making me tired.  
  
"I'm going to have to have some words with Severus," chuckled Remus. "He told me last week that he was hoping to restart an old relationship. I've been racking my brain trying to figure out who it could be. He never even said you had come back to England! I didn't connect the names when I heard about.." His voice drifted off. "But wait, didn't I hear that the boy's name is Evan Macnair?" He sat down next to me.  
  
"Er, it is," I said. "Technically speaking."  
  
He smiled. "Well, a lot of odd things happened as a result of the war- that's how I met my wife, you know," he said. "I suppose she had been over here the year before because of the Triwizard Tournament, but I only got to know her when Albus asked her to be the Defense teacher." He smiled.  
  
"How is Fleur, anyway?" asked Harry. "You need to come to the flat for dinner some night, I haven't seen you two in ages." He perched on the arm of the sofa, one gangly leg beating time with his words.  
  
"Oh, she's doing quite well. She was just over at Hermione's last night doing an interview for the new book."  
  
"Yeah, I finished mine off last month. It's coming out soon, I hear the Muggles are getting excited about it," said Potter. "I feel like such a git every time I see those pictures of me on the cover." He grimaced. "I'll be glad when the series is over."  
  
"My son loves those books," I said. Then, I began to sniff. "Oh Gods."  
  
Potter Summoned a clean handkerchief for me and Remus put his arm around me. "We'll find him," he said. "We've never failed. Besides, I have a personal grudge against Macnair," he said, and he scowled.  
  
"Who doesn't?" I asked. I could only imagine what Remus' problem with Walden must have been-most likely, something to do with Walden's Committee work. And, after all, Walden and Lucius were the only two Death Eaters who had, so far, escaped their just desserts, making them universally reviled.  
  
"There might be some wizards in Antarctica who don't," said Potter. We all laughed. 


	11. Chapter 11 Back to School

DISCLAIMER: No own, no sue!  
  
This chapter gets a bit disturbing toward the end. It's still rated "R" for language.  
  
Thanks to all reviewers who have been enjoying my recent barrage of updates. And some of my reviewers (one in particular, you know who you are) apparently are psychic. This chapter should resolve a bet. I hope the stakes weren't too high!  
SPELL-LESS IN SEATTLE  
  
Chapter 11 - Back to School  
After Remus departed, Auror Potter had to go to a series of afternoon meetings, but he generously allowed me to stay in his office. I had brought some books with me from my room at the Cauldron, so I spent most of the rest of the day sitting on his couch and reading them. As the day slowly drifted into early evening, I took a short nap.  
  
The opening of the door awoke me. Looking up, I saw it was Severus.  
  
"Rowan," he said. "Come back with me to the school. You can stay there while Remus and his squad searches the area, and if they find anything, I can go with you to meet them. I think that'd be the safest alternative for you. Besides, I cannot imagine it is very interesting here."  
  
"No, it really isn't," I said, sleepily. "Can I go back to the Leaky Cauldron and close up the room first? Oh, and thank you for paying for it, by the way."  
  
"It was my pleasure," he replied. "And I have already told Auror Gundarsson that you'll be with me," he added.  
  
"Thanks," I said. "He's really been great, hasn't he?"  
  
"He most certainly has. I have had the opportunity to speak with him at length several times over the past few years. At first, I was slightly suspicious of his motives," Severus said, pacing around the office in a rather pedantic fashion.  
  
"Why?" I asked, as I Banished my blankets and stacked my books up next to my purse in preparation to leave.  
  
"Well, I feared that he had some sort of romantic interest in you," muttered Severus, with a scowl.  
  
I laughed. "Erik's like a brother to me!" I remembered that Inanna had made some comments along similar lines, more than once. "I mean, he's nice and all, but I.....naaaaaaaah," I said. "I have always wondered why he never seems to be dating anyone. I finally figured it out, though-he's married to his job!"  
  
"I finally confronted him about it last week," Severus confessed. "He admitted that he had been interested in you when he first met you in Salem, but since you had never given him any signs of reciprocation, he never pursued those feelings. I told him that I was rather elated to hear that news as I was getting rather tired of competition for your affections." He smirked.  
  
"Well, so am I," I said, and smiled back at him.  
  
  
  
After I packed all of my belongings (and Evan's), Severus Apparated us from the Leaky Cauldron to Hogwarts. As it was getting late, the halls were largely deserted. We walked to the second floor and Severus unlocked the door of a familiar room with his wand. It was the guestroom where I had stayed on that long-ago week when I first met Severus.  
  
"I see that you remember this room," he said, as he moved my bags through the doorway. "I thought that you'd enjoy staying here. I would have you stay in my quarters but I do not feel it would be appropriate until your son is returned to you." He looked at the floor. "Unless, of course, you've decided that you'd rather not pursue-"  
  
"Severus, really! I'm-well, I have decided that I'd like to try restarting our relationship, but I really don't have the energy to talk about it at length at the moment." I sighed and sat down on the bed. "I hope you understand. It's all been a bit overwhelming, these last few months."  
  
After closing, locking, and warding the door (I was rather flattered), he sat next to me. "I do understand. Remember, we have the rest of our lives to be together, if we wish it. And I imagine that my life, for one, will be much longer than I had ever dared to hope when we last discussed such weighty matters."  
  
"That's for sure," I said, smiling. He actually smiled back, and before I knew it, we were kissing, and it was every bit as wonderful as I remembered.  
  
"Yes, it is as wonderful as I remember it as well," Severus said, when we finally broke it off. We had become rather more hot and bothered than, I think, either of us had anticipated.  
  
"Um, should we-" I began, awkwardly.  
  
"I should probably go," said Severus. "I do not want to overwhelm you any more than I already have," he added, with a smirk. He stood up. I threw a pillow at him.  
  
"Infuriating man!" I said, but I was laughing.  
  
"Ah, but I recall that was one of the things you liked most about me," he said. "I apologize, but I also have some school business to attend to. If you need anything, call for the elves. Lupin and Gundarsson are going to meet us in my office tomorrow morning. The Werewolf Squad is already on the search, and Lupin told me that one of his operatives has picked up a very faint trail in a clearing not far from Macnair's lodge." He nodded. "That was smart of Potter, putting them on the job. I do hope he's going to accept my offer. I still can't get anyone decent to take the Defense position since Delacour left to get married." He sighed. "If Albus had warned me of the sheer amount of tedium that I encounter on this job on a daily basis, I would have told him to stuff his offer." He sighed.  
  
"Delacour? Isn't she the one who's married to Remus?" I asked. Severus nodded. "Does he not want her to work?"  
  
"He does not. He is quite traditional, really. I think it might cause some problems eventually but they seem blissful at the moment." He turned toward the door. "I must go. I will see you tomorrow morning."  
  
"Good night, Severus," I said, as he closed the door behind him.  
  
  
  
It was two A.M. and I couldn't sleep. I had been tossing and turning for the last hour or so. Groaning, I turned on the light and Summoned a book to me. It did not satisfy. I kept thinking about, of all things, Walden. Well, considering that my son was with him I supposed that my thoughts were not so odd, but this sort of prolonged near-obsession was quite unwelcome.  
  
I threw the book down with a thump onto the bedside table and turned off the light again. In five minutes, I got up, in the dark, and felt my way to the en-suite bathroom (an improvement to the room since the last time I had stayed here). I sat in there for quite a while, my mind drifting and my eyes turning to the wan starlight that filtered through the tiny window. Where was he? Why had he taken my son? What did he want? Was he going to kill Evan? Surely not-perhaps he planned to run away with him and change their names and appearances. Maybe he already had. Were there milk carton pictures for missing witches and wizards? I didn't recall ever seeing such.  
  
I washed my hands and headed back out to the main room. My night vision was severely impaired because I had been turning the light on and off while trying to get to sleep. My foot ran into something. Thank the Gods that whatever it was rather soft, I thought, as I heard a sound like metal clinking against the cold stone floor. I reached down and realized I had run into my purse. I felt around on the floor and discovered something familiar--it was the bracelet, Walden's bracelet, or so I always called it. Percy Weasley had returned it to me after the trial and I had stuck it in the side pocket of my purse, which was apparently whence it had fallen. My fingers drifted over it, the platinum cuff, the raised snake design. Had I ever had it cleansed? I didn't remember.  
  
But that wasn't important, I thought. What was important now was taking a nice, brisk walk outside, to clear my head of all these thoughts and obsessions. It wasn't that cold. I threw a sweater on over my nightclothes and put on my shoes. A walk would do me good. I stuck the bracelet in my pajama pocket, figuring I'd talk to Erik tomorrow morning about maybe returning it to the NYAF vaults. I picked up my wand and walked through the door.  
  
In a short while, I was outside, the castle looming large over me in the dark. I walked toward the Forest. I wasn't actually planning to go in as I had heard many stories from Severus (and Walden) about the creatures that lurked there. I approached the hut belonging to Charlie Weasley, the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor. After the war, he had returned to Scotland from Romania, to take the dual position due to the tragic death of Hagrid.  
  
Strangely enough, nobody that I asked seemed to know how Hagrid had actually met his end, but it was widely rumored that Lucius Malfoy had something to do with it. Perhaps it would come out in his upcoming trial. Severus was close-mouthed on the subject, as apparently he and Hagrid had become friends during the early stages of the war. The two had spent many late nights together sharing various concoctions and telling tall tales, in an attempt to stave off the daily horrors perpetrated by the Dark Lord.  
  
Weasley, though, either was not a late-night wizard or he was not home, as there were no lights in the hut when I walked by. There were not many sounds, either, just the soft susurrations of my footsteps in the neatly cut grass. As I continued on, I skirted the forest, encountering the barn after surmounting a small rise. In it, I knew, were the Hogwarts carriages, as well as Severus' enchanted motorcar.  
  
After I passed the barn, I realized that I had never been to this part of the grounds. A wall and an iron gate were just ahead of me. This wasn't the main entrance, I mused, as I had been through it several times when Severus and I took drives together. I walked through the gate, which swung open easily at a flick from my wand. Clearly, security was rather lax since Voldemort's death. I didn't pause to think that I should be concerned at the fact that I was obviously leaving Hogwarts' grounds.  
  
I walked a bit further onto a moor, seeing the mountains that ringed Hogwarts get slightly closer to my vantage point. When I finally turned around, I was surprised to see how far I had gotten, and I was still not tired. Nevertheless, I paused for a moment to sit down on a large rock.  
  
The next thing I knew, someone had grabbed me from behind and plucked my wand out of my pocket. Then I was being Apparated somewhere.  
  
  
  
"Mommy!" exclaimed Evan, when I appeared in front of him. I glanced quickly around. We were in what appeared to be a small house, with very thin walls. I looked at the floor. No, it had to be a wizarding tent-the surface under my feet looked as if it had sort of a canvassy pattern.  
  
"Evan!" After I blinked for a few moments, I ran toward him and scooped him up in my arms. "Oh, Evan, I'm so glad to see you!"  
  
"He's a credit to you, my lass," said Walden, from behind me. I heard a slippery sort of noise and I knew that it was his Invisibility Cloak sliding to the floor.  
  
Still holding Evan in my arms, I slowly turned around. "I'm not your lass any more," I said. "I haven't been for a long time."  
  
"Ah, but you are," he said, with a smirk. "When I sent you thoughts through the bracelet, you went for a walk outside the school's wards so I could get you. Now let me put Evan to bed so we can talk," he said. He plucked my son out of my arms before I could protest. "I told you I'd bring you your Mum," he said, to Evan. "Now it's time to get to sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow." Evan smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Daddy."  
  
I frowned as they walked through the door, and sat down at the table. When I heard what sounded like singing from the other room, I got up quietly to listen. A most surreal scene met my eyes. There was Walden, tucking Evan into bed, singing what sounded an awful lot like "Old McDonald Had a Farm." I listened closer, attempting not to reveal my presence. I wondered if Walden's version of the farm involved a horrid slaughter of all its animal inhabitants at the end.  
  
I considered attempting to run at that point, but I didn't know where I was and I wasn't sure if Walden wouldn't take out my leaving on Evan. Instead, I stood there, watching him sing, wondering how on earth he could compartmentalize his life so much.  
  
Evan fell asleep at last and Walden tucked him in. He looked up at me and smiled, and the parody of domesticity was complete. After he pulled the blankets up and arranged them around Evan, he walked quietly toward me and we walked out of the tent's bedroom.  
  
"You're probably wondering where we're going to sleep, my lass," he said, with a smirk.  
  
That was, of course, the absolutely last subject on my mind. My hand reached up, almost absently, and I began playing with my necklace, as I nodded at him and murmured, "Uh-huh." Gods, why couldn't he stop calling me that! Had he gone insane during his short prison stay? Did he somehow believe that we were going to all ride off together into the sunset? The Ministry was hardly going to send him an apology letter and give him his old job and axe back (except in the most metaphorical of ways).  
  
I was beginning to get panicky. Where were Severus and Remus and the Werewolf Squad? Where was Erik? Why in the hell had I walked off the Hogwarts grounds? Why had I even taken the stupid bracelet back from Percy Weasley in the first fucking place? If I ever got out of here and away from Walden, I was going to supervise the melting-down of the damn thing personally. In fact, I was going to insist on being the one to hold the blowtorch.  
  
"Well, doona worry, this tent has another bedroom, I just usually doona have a need for it." He walked through the tiny sitting room and then through the kitchen. This took him about four small steps. I had forgotten how big he was. "The last time I used this tent was at the World Cup, just before I met you, and I only shared it with my daughter. She spent most of her time with her friends so I didna even open this bedroom," he said, as he tapped the wall next to the stove with his wand. A door appeared and he opened it and then ushered me inside, closing and locking it behind him. It looked just like the other bedroom, except that it only had one very large bed in it. Oh Gods.  
  
"I realize it must be strange for you, lass, being here with me," said Walden, as he sat down on the bed. It must not have been very substantial, as I saw it sag under his weight. He smoothed the coverlet next to him and looked up at me. I cowered into the doorframe. He waved his wand about the room and put up a Silencing Spell.  
  
"Were you with anyone while you were living among the Muggles? Who is this Maria that Evan keeps talking about? You didna have your man, so you turned to a woman for solace?" he asked.  
  
"No, Maria was Evan's nanny," I said. "We didn't-I didn't even date anyone- why am I even telling you any of this! You weren't my man, anyway! I left you!" Oh Gods, I was babbling. I was very scared and making every attempt to not think about why Walden had me in here.  
  
"Aye, but I know you didna really want to leave, I know it was that Auror who talked you into it, and Snape as well, the traitor," Walden replied, with a scowl. "I know you loved me and I believe you still do, I saw the way you looked at me in the courtroom, especially when you found out about Branwen." He paused and ran a hand through his hair. "I never loved her, anyway, and I doona know why you got mad about it, you were with Snape when I met you, and you were still seeing Lucius when I asked you to marry me."  
  
"Yeah," I admitted, "I did think of that, that's why I came back to the courtroom. And how did you know I lived among the Muggles?" Perhaps if I got Walden talking, I could buy myself a little time.  
  
"Where else would you have gone?" said Walden. "I knew it wasna Salem, I looked there. I would have looked in New York, but my Lord Summoned us all back and I didna have time to search again. He promised that he'd help me find you after we were victorious." Walden actually looked sad. "Well, that didna happen, obviously."  
  
Considering the sort of bad press that MegaSoft often received, I imagined that they might have had a welcoming party for Voldemort if he had decided to visit Seattle. "I didn't want you to find me, Walden," I said, weakly. My defenses were dropping rapidly and desperate measures were called for. "Oh, for Gods' sake, take this fricking thing back, will you! You're delusional! You coerced me into loving you in the first place!" I took the bracelet and tossed it at him.  
  
"You desired me from the first time you saw me!" he said, catching the bracelet neatly in one hand and dropping it into his robe pocket. "And you still desire me now!"  
  
"No, I DON'T!" I said. It was a lot easier to resist him without the bracelet on my person. "And you raped me when you first saw me!"  
  
"Aye, but I told you that I wished I hadna," he said. "And you forgave me."  
  
"That is PATHETIC, Walden!" I said. "I was under your Imperius Curse and then under your-I dunno, your Pictish love spell or whatever the fuck it was after that!"  
  
"I still love you, Rowan, doesna that mean anything to you?" he asked.  
  
"I doubt you even know what love is!" I said, trying the door handle. Nothing happened. He smirked.  
  
"It's locked and you doona have a wand. You canna get out, lass. Now come over here or I'll force you," he said.  
  
"Oh, really romantic!" I said. "Just like when you made me fuck the Lizard King! Look, Walden, isn't it obvious I'm NOT interested?"  
  
"I doona care, I'll make you interested," he growled, and in one swift and smooth, yet brutal motion he was on me, dragging me to the bed, forcing me to lie under him. I kicked and screamed and fought back as much as I could, considering that he was literally as strong as an ox, or a horse....or maybe some sort of magical creature, I didn't know. I didn't care. I didn't want him, and I was going to do everything I could to try and stop him.  
  
I remembered a Women's Self Defense course that I had taken at MegaSoft. I doubt that the providers of the course had anticipated a situation exactly like this one. Gods, if I only had my wand, or something. They had suggested car keys in the fists, and then a punch to the crotch, but my car keys were far, far away. A knee in the crotch? Well, Walden was somehow holding down both my arms and my legs, and I expected that he'd probably rope me to the bed with his wand any minute.  
  
"This isna the way I had pictured our reunion, lass," said Walden, as he picked up his wand and, just as I had feared, roped me to the bed with it.  
  
"I hadn't pictured any reunion at all with you, you--jerk!" I said. I was, unfortunately, about to start crying. He waved his wand and removed my pajamas and sure enough, I began to cry. And, to make things worse, my necklace felt like it was burning a hole in my neck.  
  
He sat down on the end of the bed and took his boots off. "Lass, doona cry," he said, as he took off his socks, slipped his robe over his head, and then removed his boxers, all with his back to me. As he did, I realized that I hadn't put on any necklace this morning. I craned my neck to try and see what I was wearing, but in vain. Whatever it was, it now felt like a river of fire was running around my collarbone.  
  
He stood at the end of the bed, looking down at me. His prick was bright red and as hard as I had ever seen it. I wished that he weren't so handsome, I thought, but then I realized that at this moment, he looked anything but attractive to me. His face was twisted up in a lustful leer. I found him more hateful than anything else.  
  
"Oh GODS!" I screamed. "Please, please, don't do this! If you stop now and leave me alone they'll--" Well, they really couldn't mitigate his fate at this point, could they?  
  
"They'll what, lass?" he said, straddling me. "They'll let me go? I doubt that. Nay, I'm going to fuck you now, and tomorrow I'm taking you and Evan to Canada. My family have some land there. We can live among the Muggles until it's safe to come back. I told you'd be with me forever, lass," he said, as he slid his large hands down my body.  
  
"NO!" I screamed again. "STOP IT! I DON'T WANT THIS!! I HATE THIS!! I HATE YOU!!"  
  
And then my necklace turned even hotter and I saw and felt a great burst of light from its general direction and all of a sudden, Walden screamed in pain and grabbed his neck, as if he had been bit, then fell back, off me, onto the floor, and above him floated a huge, shimmering silver serpent. And I knew, then, which necklace I must be wearing.  
  
Then there were a series of pops and I heard the whoosh of the Silencing Charm lifting away, and then I heard canvas ripping, and Evan was screaming, and I was screaming, and it was all too much, and I saw a great black blob form before my eyes. The last thing I heard before everything went blank were three voices, which all sounded familiar, intoning as one:  
  
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" 


	12. Chapter 12 Epilogue

For those who read my fanfic trilogy back in 02/03, I will be providing an update to all three stories within the next couple of weeks...this will include bringing both Date with an Executioner and Dark Redemption back to the site, all fully OOTP/HBP/DH compliant (which they were not before).


	13. Chapter 13 - Revision

For those who read and enjoyed my fic trilogy, please note that revised, updated versions of all the stories are currently in the process of being posted to the site.

This story will be HEAVILY revised so that it is no longer an AU.

Please be sure to drop by "Date with an Executioner" and let me know what you think of it!


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